


Past, Present, and Future

by ardentmuse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Babies, Canonical Character Death, Childbirth, Dating, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Long-Term Relationship(s), Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Post-Hogwarts, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sex, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-05-02 08:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14540391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentmuse/pseuds/ardentmuse
Summary: After the end of the war and the loss of Fred, your fiance, you discover something that makes the loss a whole lot harder. You hope the love of the Weasley family might help carry you through. And sometimes that love comes from a place unexpected, from the one Weasley you could never stand.





	1. June, 1998

For the first time since the Weasley family had returned to their abandoned home, you knocked on the back kitchen door of the Burrow. Coming here caused you a great deal of sorrow, but you knew you had to. It had been your tradition during the war to spend your Tuesday mornings having tea with Molly, providing her updates and letting her know you were safe, and so it would be your tradition afterwards.

Molly truly was a second mother to you and, even though Fred was gone, you knew your bond couldn’t be broken. She had longed for daughters for so many years. She had Ginny, her precious little girl, but Ginny wasn’t the most feminine of women. She would much rather be outside playing with the boys than inside knitting or cooking alongside her mother. Molly had her first daughter-in-law Fleur, but her brashness was not to Mrs. Weasley’s liking, though their relationship was getting better. No, having you as a daughter-in-law was like a dream for her. To see her Fred happy with a woman whom she loved herself was a blessing beyond measure. But now that would never be.

Your and Molly’s relationship was too deep to be torn apart by the loss of your fiancé. You had spent summers at the Burrow after you and Fred had started dating in fifth year. You shared Christmas presents and holiday recipes. She had counseled you through the few rare disagreements you and Fred did have, especially after the twins started their business and time for you became limited. Molly had been your biggest champion as you severed ties from your radical pure-blood parents when the war first broke out. Molly had protected you like her own child during the Battle of Hogwarts. And most importantly, she held you as you cried looking down at the body of your fiancé, holding you back from flinging yourself onto his corpse once more, giving the rest of his family the necessary space to grieve. 

Your engagement had been the only source of tension to ever exist between you. Molly and Arthur both had initially questioned the decision when you and Fred sneaked back into the house giddy and only the slightest bit drunk late one night just days before the fire that burned down the Burrow on Christmas, a simple gold ring mounting an oval sapphire now adorning your finger, colors Fred chose to match his family sweaters that you stole so often. But you and Fred had been adamant that the war was intensifying every day and therefore you had to take advantage of every ounce of happiness you could find. And for you and Fred, your happiness was with each other. Both parents’ concerns were quickly brushed aside once they understood. Hell, they had been young people in love marrying during a war once themselves. Who were they to question true love?

You remembered the day he proposed so clearly. Fred had slipped a note requesting that you meet him downstairs at 1am under Ginny’s door (even after years of dating, you still weren’t allowed to share a bed under the roof of the Burrow). It had been hard to find time together, the house so jam-packed with Weasleys and friends, that you assumed Fred was hoping to pull you into a bathroom for a quick but handsy snog or steal Christmas sweets and cuddle on the sofa. But when you finally came downstairs in your sleep dress and robe, you saw your Fred standing on the bottom landing dressed in your favorite blue button-down that complimented his complexion so nicely holding a small bouquet of violets, a flower he often gifted you, an inside joke based on the horrible prank he had pulled on you to get your attention third year.

He guided you out to the orchard which he had converted to a sort of glowing fairy garden. Twinkle lights floated throughout the trees, amplified by the glistening snow cover, brilliant shades of fuchsia, turquoise, mint, and amber. Out of the trees, you could hear the faint sounds of the Muggle jazz music you had grown to love over the years, soft saxophones and light taps of piano keys enough to easy the tension the cold had caused in all your joints. In the center was a picnic of many sweets, all of which Fred was adamant would not turn your tongue green or make your fingers grow triple their size, and a supply of firewhiskey to keep you occupied for many hours. In your stunned state, you failed to notice your boyfriend let go for your hand to kneel in front of you, fingers holding the delicate metal band and eyes pleading for you not to make him say the words. You didn’t give him words either, instead bending down to pull his face to yours, tears rolling down your cheeks as you let your kiss give the answer your voice could not.

You curled up together, enjoying the warmth of each other and the occasional hot-air charm, as you watched the stars and talked about all of your plans for your future. You wanted a nice house in the country, walking distance from a small wizarding village. You wanted a career in medicine and to support Fred and George’s already thriving business. You wanted loved ones close by and a swift end to this war. Fred wanted a family as large as his own, maybe even larger if he could manage, as long as he had the financial means to keep them happy, but you talked him down. Eventually you settled on four children, although Fred decided you really meant four pregnancies, as he was convinced that as a twin, he’d produce more twins. That made you laugh. That was your Fred, always filled with confidence and hope, always willing to believe the best outcome was possible, always willing to look for the silver lining.

Goodness, did you love him. He himself was the cure to all the negativity this war would bring your way. He himself was light and life and happiness embodied and all you needed to feel full was to consume of him. And so you did. You stripped each other bare in the box of warmth Fred had charmed for you. You caressed and kissed every inch of each other, your gentle sighs and moans blending with the still-soft music. You joined your bodies in their intimate embrace, believing no other thing would ever feel as good and as right as having this man you loved fill you completely. You listened as he uttered words of devotion into your ear as you rocked your hips in time with his, staring up at the vast, dark canvas of sky and stars that were the only witnesses to your union.

And hours later, as the sliver of sun began to peak out of the horizon, you strolled together hand in hand back to the home you’d grown to love, pausing part way at the sight of lights permeating through the kitchen windows, wordlessly alerting you to the conflict waiting just beyond their panes. And you squeezed your hands tighter and marched slowly towards the back door, trying to find the strength to say the words that needed to be said.

And that is what you did right now. You stared at the back door to the Weasley home, your home in so many ways, searching for the strength to say the words that needed to be said. Only this time, you didn’t have the soft caress of calloused fingertips into your palm easing your heart and giving you their courage. No, this time you were alone.

You heard the door creak open, rousing you from your thoughts. Molly stood beyond the threshold, a smile on her face but not in her eyes. She had lost a few pounds in the past several weeks, her world having fallen apart as much as yours, but she still tried her best to keep a positive disposition. But Lord knows how tough that was. Everything was just numbness for both of you, and now after nearly two months, you were beginning to wonder if maybe things never actually got better but rather you just learned with live as half of the person you knew you could be.

“Dear, do come in,” Molly said, stepping aside to allow you access into the room.

You stepped over the threshold and turned to your never-would-be mother-in-law. When you lifted your eyes to look at her again, you couldn’t help the tears that leaked from the corners. Large drops cascading down your face. You heard your sobs before you felt them.

“Oh, honey,” Molly muttered, her eyes wet themselves, and she immediately pulled you into her chest. “I know, I know.”

You took a few stabilizing breaths and remembered that doorway again. You remembered Fred grabbing your hand as you prepared to confront his parents, two barely adults set on the value of their union. He had turned to you, lifting his free hand to caress your jaw line, drawing your eyes up to meet his soft brown ones. He had said to you, “I love you, and just remember that from here on out, whatever we do, we do it together.”

Whatever you do. Always together. Always. And together.

“Molly, I’m pregnant.”

Molly’s hand that had been previously rubbing your back stopped between your shoulder blades. She pulled away slowly to catch a look at your face. You were still crying, but the tears were now just silent rolls, salting your lips and wetting your jaw. Your gaze was tough and rigid. Whatever we do, we do it together, you thought again and again.

“Are you certain?” she asked.

You nodded.

She nodded too in return and after a few moments, she pulled you to her chest again. You could feel her tears now heating your hair.

With a pause, she began, “Is it –” you cut her off before she could even dare insult you with the words. “Of course it is his,” you said, “It will always be him.”

At that Molly began to rock, holding you to her chest as desperately as you held her. And she cried for herself, but she mostly cried for you; you, the daughter she’d never have, carrying the grandchild her son would never know.


	2. August, 1998

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving in with the Weasley's brings you face to face with the one Weasley you'd be happy avoiding. Fred forgave him, but you're not sure if you can.

You carried the last of your suitcases into Charlie’s old bedroom in the Burrow. The room had been stripped bare to give you space to decorate as you saw fit and to add the things you needed for the baby. The Weasley’s had been insistent that you move in with them so they could help you with your pregnancy. Charlie’s room was the obvious choice, as he came home so rarely and could easily share with George if necessary. Molly kept insisting that you were her daughter and that they would do everything they could to make sure you and the baby were cared for as Fred would have wanted. But that word “daughter” stung. You weren’t her daughter. You weren’t Fred’s widow. You were just some knocked up woman carrying a baby without a father, whom the world would look at and judge or pity, never seeing or understanding just how much love produced this child.

You were about 22 weeks along, at least that was what the healers were estimating. That would have made Fred awfully happy because that would mean you conceived on his birthday. That was the last real day of pure bliss you two shared before the war finally came to a head and everyone began preparing for proper battle. Protection had not been forgotten but willfully pushed aside. You had never felt each other flesh to flesh when making love, always a thin barrier blocking you from being truly connected, from allowing the whole of your bodies to know each other as they should.

But as you lied in bed together after the twins’ birthday dinner contemplating what horrors would be in store for you in the coming weeks, you realized you may never have the chance to be one again. And what was the harm to experience the full joys of each other’s bodies? Death was at your doorstep and, if you came through the war unscathed, Fred wanted nothing more than to settle down with you and begin the family of which he’d always dreamed. Neither of you wished to die without knowing every bit of each other you could. You wanted to fully give yourself over to the man you loved, flesh, heart, and spirit. You wanted his seed to claim you as his, the last “first” you had to give Fred, having already given him all of your others.

And god, it had been perfect. The sweet softness of his skin, the gentle flow of wetness allowing you to take each other with much greater ease, the subtle folds and veins you had never realized could create textures that might bring you to release even faster than any time previous. You couldn’t quiet your moans, you were sure to the annoyance of George in the next room, as Fred panted into your ear between thrusts, both completely consumed by each other.

“You are mine. And I will marry you the day this whole bloody mess is behind us. We’ll go to the Ministry the next morning, I swear. I will not spend another day without you as my wife. Not a day, Y/N. Not a single day.” Fred chanted those last words over and over again as he continued his sweet torment of your body, long rhythmic strokes that made your legs quake until you were but mush for Fred to mold with his strong hands as he saw fit.

You had never considered the possibility that one of you might have to live on without the other. You talked a lot about death, about your fears and your worries, but it was always in the context of dying together. You’d both just assumed that was how it would go, fighting side by side, a single mistake taking you simultaneously.

Over the past few months, you often felt guilty that you were spared while he passed on, but those emotions were slowly fading as the child continued to grow, now beginning to obscure your vision of your toes. You lived on for them, for the piece of Fred that still grew inside of you. And while you hated the idea of doing this alone, especially knowing how much Fred wanted this, you knew you had to be strong for him, too.

You set the suitcase down on the floor beside the bed with a loud thud, the heaviest of the set that you brought. You hadn’t seen anyone downstairs when you arrived and decided a single flight of stairs wasn’t too much for you yet. You suitcases were mostly just dresses and photo albums, all the rest of your stuff still remaining in Fred’s room, though you guessed now it was your room, above George’s shop.

At the sound of the heavy load, you immediately heard footsteps running on the stairs. After a moment, a disheveled head poked itself in the doorway.

“Y/N, what on earth are you doing?” Molly said, face flushed from running.

“Um, moving in?” you said, confused by her question.

“Arthur!” she turned and called into the hallway, “Arthur!” she said again, turning to you with an apologetic smile.

You heard Molly’s husband in the hallway, “Yes, dear?” He seemed prepared for a berating.

“Why would you let Y/N carry her stuff up here alone? You know she shouldn’t be carrying anything in her condition!”

You took a seat on the bed as the couple argued outside the door frame. You just wanted to rest. You didn’t need a lecture. But you also didn’t interfere. Things had been looking better for the Weasley family the past few weeks. Your pregnancy had helped to begin to heal some wounds, reminding everyone that life goes on and that Fred will still be with them in so many ways, the clearest of which grew inside you at the moment. At that thought, you absentmindedly rubbed the small bump, soft gently strokes that you hoped comforted the life inside you.

The voices arguing grew more distant, indicating one or the other decided to flee downstairs. You breathed a sigh of relief, thought it didn’t last long. A knock at the door caused you to jump.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” a timid looking Percy said from the doorway.

Percy. You tried your best not to roll your eyes or huff at his presence. Percy had always been a sore spot for you. Even before you started dating his brother, Percy had considered you Fred’s “enabler,” as many of his tricks in those early years at Hogwarts were an effort to earn your attention and affection. He hoped when you actually agreed to a date with the boy that maybe he’d stop being such a menace and harming the reputation of his family and house, but that was not the case. You were right there alongside the twins planning and scheming. He’d threatened to take more house points from you than you could count. And then he joined the Ministry, disowned his family, and turned his back on the twins when they needed him the most. You knew how much that hurt Fred, more than even George knew. Fred loved Percy deeply and was the first to forgive him when he finally acknowledge the error of his ways, but you couldn’t be so forgiving. Percy prioritized himself over everyone you loved, especially Fred. Even still, you looked at him and saw all the tears Fred shed for him. It broke your heart.

“No, it’s alright,” you said flippantly, “Is there something you need, Perce?”

Percy took a tentative step into the room. “I wanted to talk to you, Y/N, if that’s alright.”

You looked at Percy and reminded yourself that Fred forgave him with enthusiasm just hours before he passed. Fred wanted a relationship with Percy again, and if Fred wasn’t here to have it, then that relationship was left to you. You took a deep breath and patted the spot on the bed beside you.

Percy took a seat. He looked at you and then at your hand still resting on your stomach. He smiled sadly “I know you probably hate me.”

“No,” you said with vibration. You didn’t mean it to sound so false. It just served to make Percy laugh.

“I know I’ve been pretty insufferable these last few years.”

“Few years?” you asked sarcastically.

“Okay, so maybe as long as you’ve known me. But it was hard being the middle child and standing out.”

“Fred did just fine,” you couldn’t help but utter.

“Yeah,” Percy sighed, “Yeah, he did.”

You looked over at him and saw his face faltering, a sadness playing out there that you didn’t expect. You saw regret and doubt and fear that was so uncharacteristic for the Percy you knew that you almost wanted to hug him. Almost.

“This can’t be what you wanted to talk about,” you said, hoping to push away your sympathy for even a moment. You were still mad, despite Fred’s forgiveness.

“No,” Percy said, turning his body to you and reaching for your unoccupied hand.

You were shocked by the gesture. Percy’s hands were gentle and soft, so different from Fred’s that were calloused from work and strong from sport. It took you a few seconds to draw your attention back to his eyes.

“Listen, I know I screwed up. I know I wasn’t there for my brother in life, not the way I should have been. But I want to be there now. I don’t have the chance with Fred but,” he faltered, eyes casting downward to your belly, “I do with you. I want to be there for you and my nephew, if you’ll allow me.” He finished with a nod and held your eyes.

This was not what you expected. “How do you know it’s a boy?” you asked.

“It’s a Weasley,” he said with a laugh.

You couldn’t help but laugh too. You were still holding Percy’s hand and found you didn’t mind it nearly as much as you expected. But you weren’t sure if you were willing to let Percy in.

“What would you do?” you asked.

“Anything,” he said with a shrug of the shoulders. “Accompany you to doctor’s appointments, help with late night feedings and diapers and the whole thing.”

Percy seemed so genuine. You asked Percy for a moment and he let go of your hand. You sat in silence thinking about what Fred would have wanted, rubbing your stomach without intention. Percy waited patiently beside you.

And then it happened. North of your belly button, just under your thumb, you felt a firm but small bump that quickly disappeared. A kick. Your baby’s first kick. You couldn’t contain the squeal that escaped your lips.

Percy immediately fell to the floor in front of you, hand on your knee. “Oh my, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Is something wrong with the baby? I’ll go get mom.” He squeezed your knee and made to stand, but you stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

“She kicked,” you whispered, beaming, “Her first kick.”

Without thinking, you took his hand and placed it where your thumb had previously been. As if on cue, your child kicked again.

Percy starred at your interlocked hands in awe.

You knew what you had to do. “Yes, Percy.”

His eyes snapped up to yours. “Yes what?”

“Yes, I’d like you to be a part of my life and my daughter’s life. She’s made it clear that she’d like that,” you said confidently, tightening your grip on his fingers where they rested over your child.

Percy face light up, eyes wet with unshed tears. He placed his unoccupied hand on your knee and squeezes. “Thank you, Y/N. Thank you.”

You nodded in return, finding yourself surprisingly emotional as well. Maybe you too could forgive him.

Percy made to leave but when he reached the door, he turned to you. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you know she’s a girl?” Percy asked.

You couldn’t help but look down at your now quickened belly and smile. “I don’t.”


	3. October, 1998

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions between Percy and George are high. When George questions your devotion to Fred, you are overcome with anger, the stress of which allows you to see Percy for who he is even more clearly.

“Percy,” you gushed, looking down at the bag of treats he had placed on the round of your stomach, “Thank Merlin for you!” You slowly lifted yourself up from your reclined place on the couch, having been elevating your feet the past several hours at the demand of Molly, so you could eat one of the pumpkin pasties you had been craving so much these past few weeks.

“First time anyone has said that about you,” George quipped to his brother from the chair beside you. His tone was light but there was an edge to his words that hinted at the resentment that still resided underneath. George was having a hard time forgiving Percy’s transgressions. He was having an even harder time with Percy doting on you. That was his job. Fred would have wanted him to step up and support his kid. Genetically, this kid was basically George’s anyway.

“George, play nice,” you scolded before taking your first bite.

In protest, George simply leaned over to grab a pastry himself, but you swatted his hand away from the bag before he could grab one.

“Hey, mister! The baby needs those,” you said, pulling the bag into the space between your body and the couch so you could hoard it better.

“Sure, the baby,” he mocked and you could hear the air quotes even if you couldn’t see him, too intent on rubbing your hand up and down the now prominent lump in front of you.

“Good to see you, brother,” Percy said, drawing both your eyes to where he stood, back straight and hands held behind him like some dignitary.

George simply nodded. The tension between the two of them was palpable, but you were just happy to have George out his the shop and his apartment, let alone in the same room as Percy. It was progress for the broken soul that he was. You were broken too, but you at least had the babe. George just felt lost and it broke your heart to see him try to rebuild from nothing.

“Well,” Percy finally said after a moment of awkwardness, “I guess I’ll see you both at dinner?”

He turned and walked away so quickly that you had to scream, “Thank you,” at his back as he retreated into the kitchen to help his mother prepare dinner.

“He’s still a wanker,” you heard George say under his breath, forcing you to tsk him. George moved to the couch, picked up your legs and sat underneath them. He’d been doing this rather frequently, using you as an anchor, when you’d manage to get him to come out into the common spaces of the Weasley home. You didn’t mind. George was your dear friend and if you could find strength in each other to get through this loss, you’d do just that.

He lifted your foot to look at your ankle. “These are huge,” he said to you as you pulled another pasty into your mouth.

“Oh, off with it, George. You try creating a human being before you criticize.”

“I’m not criticizing. I’m impressed,” he said more to your foot than to you, rolling your ankle, his fingers around your toes. “It gives me ideas.”

You beamed at him. That was the first you had heard of him desiring to create new product since – well, since everything went to shit.

“Ideas, my dear friend? I like the sound of that,” you said, reaching into the paper bag you had hidden in the couch. “That earns you a treat,” you added, handing him one of the delicious hand pies.

“Oh? Our princess is sharing her riches with us lowly commoners? I should be so honored,” he jabbed, though his body gave no flourish like he normally would have, before swiftly taking the treat you handed to him. “Really though, Y/N, why are you bothering with Percy anyway? He’s just trying to make up for his own bloody guilt.”

“Now, come on. He comes by the house once a week just to bring me foods I am craving from the city and play chess. It’s nice. I surprisingly like his company,” you said, tapping around your stomach to see if you can elicit any movement from you child. “He’s trying. That is much better than can be said for so many people after this fucking war. Don’t you want your brother back, too?”

“Yes,” George snapped, his voice turning to steel and his hands resting their motion on your toes. “Yes, I do want my brother back, princess. The brother you loved. The brother who should be here massaging your ankles and feeling his baby kick. The brother who should be sneaking out of the shop to bring you sweets while you rest on our couch in our apartment. The brother who should be cradling his baby in his arms as he feeds you cake during your wedding. The brother whom you’ve so quickly forgotten, it seems. That brother, Y/N. Not him. Not. Him,” he said the last words through fully gritted teeth, pointing to the kitchen and growling at you like some feral cat.

You instinctively pulled your ankles back in fear. You rarely saw George in these moments, but for some reason Percy seemed to be a particularly sore subject. There was misplaced blame at the both of you, you were realizing now, as if Percy wasn’t also a child trying to live out a dream in the midst of a civil war, as if you too weren’t suffering a loss the levels of which no one else could understand.

Your fear turned to anger on your tongue and your words came out before you could even process them. “Forgotten him? Is that some kind of joke to you, George!” You were trying your hardest not to yell but failing. “I loved him. I gave him everything. I would have died for him if I could have. But I couldn’t. Merlin knows I tried. I thought I was dying those first few weeks, same as you. But now there is a baby, okay, George? And forgive me for trying to see the silver lining here! For not wanting my child to grow up shrouded by everyone’s misery over his dead father!” You took a steadying breath before lifting yourself up a little bit more, pushing a hand on the arm of the couch so you could get closer to George. With a more measured tone, you added, “The only reason, literally the only reason I wake up each morning, is the hope that when this baby is born I might look down at them and see Fred again. See the sparkle of his eyes and the slight dimple of his chin and that crinkle in the corner of his mouth he’d make right before he’d tell me he loved me.”

You felt a tightening in your stomach as your body tensed in anger. Your lips pulled back as you tried to stop the tears from coming. But come they did.

You heard the distinctive footsteps that let you know that Molly, and probably Percy, has entered the room at your outburst.

You felt your chest give way to tears and the next thing you knew you were shaking. Salt poured from your eyes and whimpers escaped your lips without your notice. You pulled your knees as best you could towards your stomach, wanting to cradle them, but you were too large now to do so. “I will never forget him. I loved him so much, George. So much. How dare you question that,” you whispered between shakes.

George just stared at you from where he sat on the couch. He reached for your knee but you jerked away with a muttered, “don’t.”

He stayed where he was, giving you the space you needed to feel what you were feeling. He felt like utter shit. He noted the identical death glares coming his way from Molly and Percy on the other side of the room.

After a moment, your whimper changed to a shriek, the tightening in your stomach no longer just a tension but a real pulsation that you felt from back to front, all the way down to your hips. You grabbed at the couch with tightened knuckles. When you felt the pain again, you let out a real scream.

Everyone moved towards you, but Percy was first by your side. He knelt down beside the couch and took your hand, not caring at your tightened grip or how your engagement ring was cutting into his flesh. Molly stood above him, hand on his shoulder as though she was going to pull him back and get in herself. But when he stroked his thumb over the delicate skin of your knuckles, she relaxed and let him take lead.

“Y/N, look at me,” he said in a measured tone.

You did as he asked, your breathing still labored.

“Where’s your pain?”

“Everywhere,” you said, still crying.

“But the pain isn’t moving, is it? Not starting in your back and moving to the front?”

“No.”

“And they aren’t just on the bottom,” he asked, gesturing down to the underside of your belly.

You shook your head to indicate no.

“Good. Mom?” he asked, turning to where Molly was standing. “Could you bring us some water?”

Molly looked down at her son in a daze before nodding and taking determined steps into the kitchen. George gazed on at his brother with something akin to awe.

“Now, Y/N,” Percy said, stroking your hand to pull your attention back to him, “I think you’re just experiencing false labor pains. Stress can do it. So can being dehydrated or being in a weird position. I’m going to help you stand, okay? If you feel better standing then we have nothing to worry about.”

You nodded your ascension to Percy’s plan, having read a lot about false labor in the third trimester and knowing he was right.

Percy confidently turned to his brother, “George, can you –” he didn’t even have to finish his sentence before George was standing beside you, helping to get his arms under your back to begin to lift you from the couch.

You pushed off as best you could, pressing heavily on Percy’s shoulder. You took deep breaths as you got used to your new upright position. You noticed the tension in your stomach was dissipating, leaving only the cold, bitter, emptiness that let you know you were still hurting emotionally, even if George had his arms around you in support at the moment.

You let out a long exhale as Molly handed you a cup of water.

“Drink,” Percy said, his hand rubbing small circles into your lower back in comfort as you followed his instructions.

Feeling you stabilize, George removed himself from your side to join his mother who had been summoning him with a lifted eyebrow, giving Percy full ownership of supporting you.

“Feeling better?” Percy asked as you handed over your empty cup, his fingers never leaving their place secure on your spin.

“Yes, Percy,” you said with a sigh, “Thank you.”

George pulled his head from where Molly had been talking to him in harsh whispers, most likely reprimanding him for stressing out a vulnerable pregnant woman. He looked at his brother with blankness, “How’d you know what to do?”

Percy puffed out his chest in pride, though the hand behind his neck playing with the few hairs there conveyed a hint of nervousness too. “I’ve been reading,” he said before meeting your gaze.

You looked at him and smiled, finding it sweet that he had been preparing to be able to help you, and finding yourself leaning more into his side than was entirely necessary as a result. You thought you noticed a tint of ruby on his cheeks before he turned his attention back to his relatives.

George gave a half-smile before shaking his head, “‘course you have. I guess I should thank you, too. I was right bloody useless there.”

Percy was beaming at his brother, clearly hoping whatever weird chasm existed between them was slowly being repaired. Percy was a simple man in that way, just wanting the approval of those around him a little too much and having always before now possessed the ambition and confidence to do just that. But he knew his ego wasn’t going to win him this battle. Only time and care would.

“Best take a spin around the room, dear. That always helped me,” Molly added, gripping her son’s shoulder

“I think I need some air,” you admitted.

George made to step forward to walk with you, but Percy cut him off with a finger. “I’ve got her. You help mum and we’ll be in for dinner.”

George simply nodded, following Molly as she moved to the kitchen. He paused beside you, grabbing your shoulder and whispered to you, “I’m sorry.”

You reached up and grabbed his hand, your gaze on the floor. “I know.”

With a gentle squeeze, he left you with Percy.

You smiled up at Percy who still held you by the waist. He was quite tall and skinny compared to the twins, his eyes a icier blue compared to their warm brown ones. You found it surprisingly comforting.

After a moment, Percy pulled his hand from you. “Are you good to walk on your own?”

You nodded and he proceeded towards the door, holding it open for you as he grabbed his coat from the hook. You walked outside but, as Percy shut the door, you tripped over the top step, flinging forward with you hands out behind you. With a quick step, you caught yourself, but not before Percy’s hand caught yours. His grip helped you regain your footing. His fingers were soft, delicate, and warm, as they wrapped around yours.

Your mind recalled all the times Fred had helped you in a clumsy moment, which happened often when he’d have you running from Filch or sneaking through hidden passages so you could make out in peace. But each time he raised a hand to help you as you missed a step or nearly bumped into a door had just been an excuse to hold you, to take your hand or pull you into his side or wrap his arms around your waist. Fred loved to pretend you were a damsel in need of his saving. “A princess should call on her loyal knight every now and then,” he would tell you when you’d scold him for assisting you unnecessarily. The phrase was so frequently uttered that George even began to call you princess just to piss off his brother.

In the flash of time it took you to think back on your dear fiance, you had failed to let go of Percy’s hand. He didn’t seem to mind, smiling softly down at you as you stared off in the distance. He let you come to on your own and when you did, you tried to pull away, embarrassed by the lingering touch but also sensitive to what a similar touch had always meant to you.

But as you pulled, Percy squeezed gently. “Please, let me,” he said, meeting your eyes, “You’re still uneasy and those contractions could come back. I’d rather you have something to squeeze than see you topple over in discomfort.”

It was still a little strange for you to hold a hand platonically, especially a hand so different from the one you had grown to love on a body so different as well, sans the hair. But you nodded all the same.

Percy cupped his fingers around your palm as he strolled you through the garden, talking of work and the rebuilding of the ministry that was being done under Kingsley, asking you about the baby and your writing and the knitting lessons Molly was giving you, and trusting you when you decided you didn’t need his hand anymore. When you told him you wanted to de-gnome the garden for Molly, he simply laughed and helped you, didn’t bother to try and convince you that you shouldn’t be bending or throwing at thirty weeks.

When Molly popped her head out to call you in for dinner, the sun was already low in the sky and the torches around the garden were lit. You could see that Arthur and Ron were now home, though you hadn’t heard or seen them arrive, too consumed in your garden activities.

Percy reached his hands out in silent ask for you to take them so he could walk you back to the house. Molly’s gaze made you hesitant, though you were unsure entirely why. She had a smile on her face, one that was simultaneously sad and pleasant, almost knowing. But when you looked back up to Percy, his gaze shining down upon you, picking up the magical lights of the pathway, with a comforting pull at the corners of his lips, you reconsidered. It didn’t strike you that no part of your mind thought to compare him to Fred in that moment. He was just a kind smile, a warm arm, and a pleasant conversation that somehow dropped all the arrogance in your presence. It was a kinder, more vulnerable Percy that you had ever known in school. A man you enjoyed knowing.

“Here, the stones are pretty uneven on this side,” he said in justification.

With an exhale, you took his hands gently with you own. And, with a shy smile to Molly, you returned to the house for dinner.


	4. December, 1998

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Weasley arrives!

Christmas Eve breakfast started out as a lovely meal. Light contractions had you up before most of the house so you had helped with a bit of the cooking. You would estimate that you’d been in early labor for ten or so hours now, though you tried your hardest not to make a big deal of it. It was inconvenient, yes, but you wanted to spend as much of the holiday as a family before your labor overshadowed everything else.

So as you ate your pancakes, you caught up with Ginny and Molly. Percy had joined you as well, providing a lovely distraction with silly stories from the Ministry’s holiday party.

As you discussed Ginny’s quidditch tryouts over the remaining eggs, you felt a strange tightness in your hips. You grabbed sharply onto Ginny’s arm. She could do nothing but look to you in panic.

Within a moment, Percy was by your side, helping you to stand.

The pain that rippled through your stomach was damn near excruciating. And it seemed to have come all at once. One moment, you were fine, a small tightening in your lower abdomen distracting you every now and then. And now you could hardly breath, digging your nails into Percy’s arm as though he were your only lifeline.

“Sweetheart, you have to breath,” Percy whispered as he stroked your hair. But breathing seemed near impossible at the moment. Breathing took the work of your muscles and you had no control over any of them. You knew you were still standing only thanks for Percy’s strong hold on your waist.

But as the pressure moved towards the front of your stomach, you felt the pain slowly dissipate. You smiled and looked up to see Percy peering down at you with the softest expression you had ever seen. You knew your grip had to hurt him. But he was looking down on you like you were some goddess of fertility, some beacon of light that only brought joy to the world.

“Thank you, Percy,” you whispered up to him.

“Don’t say that too soon, love. You have a long day ahead of you,” he said with a gently stroke of his hand across your forearm. The feeling was a soothing one that, when accompanied by the calm icy blue of his gaze, gave you strength.

A rush of feet down the stairs snapped you from the spell Percy had cast on you. A flush spread through you at the realization that he could captivate you so.

“Is it the baby? Is the baby coming?” George frantically asked as he screeched to a stop in front of you.

“What do you think?” Percy said, letting go of you and taking a step away.

George took his place beside you, held your hand, and said, “I’ve got you, princess. And we’re going to get through this together. I’ll be beside you all day.”

With that, he took you by the waist and began to lead you out of the kitchen towards your room. But before he could get further than the kitchen, Percy intercepted you.

“George, you have no idea how to be helpful with this. I’ll take her. You wait down here for her healer, okay?” Percy took your hand in his and began leading you away from his brother. You saw George clench his jaw at his dismissal and found yourself worried at the already growing tension between the two brothers.

“Actually, Molly and I have a plan. We need hot water and towels and –” you began but George interrupted you before you could finish, saying, “I’m on it!”

You sighed to Percy as he held you. He chuckled at his brother’s enthusiasm, though you saw a tension in his jaw that let you know his laugh was not genuine.

Percy led you to your room as George, Ginny, and Molly carried up supplies. You stood outside the door, instructing the group when a second real contraction took hold of you body.

Like clockwork, Percy was holding onto you again, though George was only moments behind.

“Perce, stop. It’s my responsibility,” George said, taking hold of your hand and tugging you gently away from his brother.

“Your responsibility? Just because it’s Fred’s baby?”

“Yeah. I stick by my brother,” George huffed, adding under his breath, “unlike some people.” He was still holding you, though ignoring the fact that you were doubled over and labored in your breathing.

You tried your best to stop their bickering with a roughly breathed, “Enough,” thought neither boy seemed to hear you.

As your contraction got worse, you heard nothing of what the boys were saying, your pain eclipsing any noise. Ginny came and took you by the shoulders, pulling you forward and into her as the boys continued to raise their voices, each sentence more heated and cutting than the last. Neither seemed to notice that you were no longer in their grasps and that broke your heart a little. Neither of them cared about you and the baby, you thought. They only cared about what it meant for themselves.

“Enough,” you shouted as loud as you could once your contraction eased and you regained breath, forcing both men to turn to you dazed.

“Yeah, Percy,” George snapped to the man beside him, somehow thinking he was on your side on this matter.

“Enough from both of you!” you shrieked before letting out a long calming breath, “This baby is Fred’s, but what you both seem to be forgetting is that this baby is also mine! And right now I don’t want her near either of you. Molly. Ginny.” You motion for both women to enter your room. Molly entered, shooting daggers at her sons before working to prepare the bed. Ginny refused to leave your side.

“And?” you heard George ask.

“And nothing,” you said coldly. “One of you please send up the healer when she arrives. I don’t care which.” And with that you entered your room, slamming the door decidedly in their faces.

Both men stood staring at the closed door for several minutes.

“Great job, George,” Percy muttered under his breath.

“Shut up, you fucking wanker,” George spit before turning on his heels and fleeing downstairs.

Percy made to say something but swallowed his words, letting out a huff in their place. This had gone terribly.

When he finally made his way downstairs after much pacing outside the door of your room, Percy found George on the couch, cheeks stained in tear lines, curled in on himself and covered in blankets like he used to do as a child when he’d fought with Fred. With caution, Percy sat down beside him on the couch, not too close but within arms reach.

Neither said a word.

Finally, Percy broke the silence. “We really screwed up, didn’t we?” His point was emphasized by the faint sound of you screaming from the floor above them.

George winced before he let out a sigh. “Why do you ever care, Percy?”

“Because that baby is my family, George. I want to be here for him or her, especially since they won’t have a father to take care of them.”

“They’ll have me,” George whispered through gritted teeth, “And what about everyone else, huh? I’m your family. Fred was your family. Ron, Ginny. Mom. Dad. We’re all your family, too. And you didn’t give a rat’s ass about any of us–” Percy cut him off with a quickly uttered, “That was different.”

“How?” George asked, his volume rising, “How was that any different?”

“It was war,” Percy responded with raised pitch as well before steading himself with measured breaths. “I was young. I was stupid. I wanted to make something better for myself than what we grew up with, alright? I’m trying to do better, I really am. But it’s too late. I can’t repair what I’ve lost with you. But with Y/N– George, with her, I have a fresh start. I know I’m being selfish, but I just wanted someone in this bloody family to look at me like I’m not a fucking monster.”

George didn’t respond for a long time, but the silence wasn’t as tense as it had been before. At least they were talking.

After a long while, George muttered to himself, “You aren’t a monster.”

“Pardon?” Percy asked, his mind and attention having been pulled to the hushed sounds coming from your room.

“I said you’re not a monster,” George responded, lifting his eyes to meet his brothers. “And it’s not too late. I mean what did Fred and I do but exactly what you said. We were young and stupid and ran off to make something of ourselves. We were just lucky our dreams didn’t involve an arsehole boss who refused to believe Harry.”

That made Percy laugh. The boys simply looked at each other, sharing a silent understanding.

After a moment, George added, “But our dreams did involve Y/N. She cares. She always has.”

You let out a particularly loud wail, which pulled Percy’s eyes up the stairs. Both men hurt at your pain, but stayed seated. George waited for Percy’s full attention before continuing, “Percy, she’s my sister and she’s my friend. I just don’t want her to get her hopes up that you actually care about her when you’re just here because you’re trying to make up for the past.”

Percy turned and leaned his face into the cushion. He thought back on the past few months, of bringing your treats and sitting on the couch listening to you explain all the details of the latest story you were reading, you falling asleep on his lap as he read the last few chapters of each book out loud to you, all the times he was able to take your hand to help you walk or hold you against his chest as you tried to relax, and more than anything the look on your face when you thought no one was watching, looking down at your child still within you and singing soft lullabies. A perfect image of beauty and love.

“Between us, George,” Percy whispered, “I think I may care too much.”

Their heart-to-heart was interrupted by a sound from the fireplace. Within a moment appeared the elderly blond woman who had been making weekly visits for the past two months. She didn’t miss a beat before asking, “Has Y/N been placed in her birthing bed already?”

Percy stood. “Yes, I’ll take you,” and with a curt nod to George, a tint of blush still on his cheeks, he led the healer upstairs.

When the healer was allowed entry, Percy caught the quickest glimpse of your face. Your brow was furrowed in concentration, your hair stuck to your forehead and your eyes locked on his. Just as the door was closing, he thought he saw you smile.

At first, his spirit lifted. But after a moment, it sank again. Here you were in some of the most excruciating pain the world can place on a person and still you were providing him more support than he was providing you. How were you always so sweet? How come it warmed his heart so to see you show the tiniest bit of affection to him. He felt guilt deeply at not being there for you, but also a lightness at your care. He returned downstairs and sat beside George and waited gladly. It was all he could do. Slowly, the still sleeping members of the household joined them until a large group of Weasleys and their partners were assembled in the living room awaiting the news.

Three hours and much pain later, they were informed that the child had arrived, a girl, small but mighty, with thin red tufts of hair. And an hour or so later, the family was allowed up to see you both.

Despite being told to be calm, George rushed into the room and took a seat on the bed. You sat looking exhausted, your eyes sagging and your hair mussed, holding your little girl stomach-down on your chest, skin to skin. While it made it hard for everyone to see her face, it was best to help the baby feel calm and help you create milk. She was curled up, butt in the air, fast asleep as you looked down at her.

George’s words pulled you from your baby’s beautiful face. “What’s her name?” he asked.

You looked at him and then to the rest of the room, about ten people crowded around the door waiting for your answer.

Stroking your child’s head, you said, “Violet. Violet Winifred Weasley.” You looked to George, hoping to see approval on his face. He beamed at you, reaching out the stroke the auburn hair atop your baby’s head.

“Violet like–”

“Like the ones that grew out of my ears third year every time I said Fred’s name, yes. Violets were our way of saying, ‘I’m thinking of you,’ and I want to look at her every day and think of him,” you explained.

George let the tears run down his face. You cried too, reaching out to hold his hand in your own, putting your anger with him aside to feel this thing together.

After everyone made their way over to peer down at the tiny head on your chest, Molly ushered everyone out, urging you to sleep and telling everyone else they could have a better look at the baby tomorrow. A Christmas present to the family.

Just as the door closed, you heard a knock and saw Percy peek his head inside.

“Yes?” you asked, trying your best to let your anger at him pass.

He took a hesitant step into the room, wringing his hands in front of him.

“She’s beautiful,” he said from the edge of the bed.

You looked at the man and smiled. You were finding being angry at him was not easy. Every part of you wanted to let him back in. Not having him beside you during your labor was your choice but you still missed the softness of his hands, the tranquility of his gaze, the gentleness of his voice, and the warmth of his company.

After a moment, he added, “And so are you.”

You flicked your eyes up to meet his, shock apparent on your face. You watched as the red crept up his neck and over his cheeks. He broke your gaze to look at the floor before taking swift steps toward the door.

“I’m here if you need me. I’ll help in any way I can,” he said before quickly shutting the door behind him.

As you looked down at the precious, soft face of your child, you smiled, not just at the beautiful life you had created, a reminder of the great love of your past that you had found in Fred, but also at the future, one which you were beginning to believe could also be filled with a great love, though not one you had ever expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this! I actually posted it to my Tumblr and totally forgot to cross-post it here. So thank you all for the lovely comments on the last chapter to remind me :)


	5. April, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Easter weekend means many Weasleys at home to help take care of your daughter. But a thoughtless comment from George forces you to address your feelings for Percy… but what would Fred think?

Spring was already proving to be a mild one, and the holiday weekend provided a reprieve from the intense thunderstorms that had been a constant of the past several days. The sun had dried up the grassy knolls of the Weasley home and everyone was looking forward to basting in the sun and enjoying a picnic outside the gardens, albeit clad in sweaters but still just as lovely.

Ginny grabbed the other end of the large quilt you were stretching out. Your daughter Violet laid in the grass beside you, her head shaking from side to side and legs pulled up towards her stomach. Her arms fluttered frantically at her sides, grabbing at bits of grass and honeysuckle within reach, though clearly without intention. When you finally set down the quilt, a blue and white mosaic of patches each fading at the corners from regular use, you hovered over your daughter. Immediately, she smiles at you with open mouth and bright pink gums on display. Her arms continued their crazed circles until you bent down to grab her, lifting her onto the soft fabric as you and Ginny sat.

You looked down once again at your daughter, who now had most of her fist deep in her throat, fingers exploring the inside corner of her cheek with intent curiosity. She wasn’t the spitting image of Fred you had hoped, but instead a beautiful combination of the two of you. When she smiled, you saw him so fully, carefree and joyous, and when she pouted, your features became more prominent, a questioning realism that you didn’t think a three month old could be capable of. But here she was, watching the clouds move in the sky and slowly rocking on her back, a person fully her own but still a testament to the duality of her parentage.

“Toast?” Ginny asked beside you, pulling your attention towards the basket she was unloading filled with small edibles to enjoy as you lounged in the sun. Behind her, Molly worked intently weeding and prepping for the summer harvest. She was chucking dead stems into a bucket behind her, not looking to see if she actually made it, and quickly the pile of plant remains on the cobblestone was growing larger than that in the trash. You laughed. 

Ginny turned to look. “Must be singing,” she noted before grabbing a slice of cheese. “She never pays attention when she’s singing.” 

Ginny was home for Easter and you were eager to spend this time with her. You had been corresponding via letters while she was off finishing her seventh year, but seeing her in person was much better. You had always been close with Ginny, as a big sister in a way she never had. Plus, she was the only person with enough sass to take your side during playful arguments with Fred. It was quite nice having that sort of easy relationship, especially now that you had no relationship with your own family. 

Ginny pulled out a book from the basket and handed it to you. It was the collection of short stories Percy had gifted you for Christmas. Everyone else had given you gifts for the baby but Percy had thought to give you something only you could enjoy. It was a small gesture, one that honestly seemed so simple that you were unsure if he had intended it as a sign of affection. But you had decided to take it as such, knowing that someone like Percy preferred to show his care in any way but words. You had already read each story multiple times but still found yourself going back again. Something about it made you feel close to him, like it gave you an excuse to reflect on all the small kindnesses he had showered upon you and Violet in the past few months. Honestly, you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t flutter a little at the thought of it.

You turned to the start of one story and made to recline and read when you remembered. You shot upright.

“We need to do tummy time,” you said to Ginny, but she was already had Violet in her arms and was pulling a rattle out of the basket.

“I’m on it, Mom. You rest,” she assured. You daughter uttered a happy “gah-blee” as though in agreement as she tangled her fingers in Ginny’s flowing red mane.

You smiled and leaned forward to kiss your daughter on the nose. On instinct, she opened her mouth wide and sneezing. 

 

You buried your head deep in the book, excited for a half hour or so of no parenting responsibilities. 

You awoke with a start when you heard the first squeals of your daughter’s hunger cry.

“There’s my beautiful girl.”

You looked up to see Percy looking down at you where you laid reclining on the blanket with your skirt billowing out around you and book fallen upon your chest. His smile clearly made it to his eyes. He must have just apparated from work given how formal his outfit was and how windswept his hair still appeared.

You held eyes for a moment and you watched as red spread down up his neck. You watched his Adam’s apple bob with a swallow before he turned to Ginny, dropping down to his knees to address you daughter.

“There she is,” he said again, reaching out with his arms to take the baby. 

Violet’s crying eased in Percy’s arms. Whether it was the familiar scent of his cologne or the fact that he held her facing outward while bouncing, it was hard to say. But Violet’s wails eased to mere cooes in his arms as he returned to standing. 

“Still reading that?” he asked you, though his eyes were on Violet.

“Rereading,” you corrected, feeling the heat in your cheeks at being caught. 

Percy laughed, “Well, I’m glad I didn’t screw that up then.” 

Violet let out a particularly violent screech and kicked into Percy’s stomach.

You sat upright and shook your head to alleviate some of the sleepiness that still clouded your brain. 

“I’ll take her,” you offered, holding your arms out, “She needs to eat.” 

“No, I’ve got it,” Percy assured you, “Milk in the fridge?” 

Before you even answered, he was turning back towards the house, muttering to Violet something you couldn’t understand. 

You watched his retreating back, noted the way his coat clung to his shoulders. His form was so tall and lithe, almost like a dancer though slightly more awkward. Like a gazelle? Or a giraffe? No, that’s too awkward.

Ginny chuckled beside you, pulling your attention back to her. She was staring at you with a smirk on her face, one that had you immediately wanting to bury yourself in your collar.

“I like this Percy,” she said lightly, looking to the door, as though ignoring that she was you staring. “Old Percy. Chivalrous, eager Perce, not the asshat we had the past few years.” You pulled a few strands of grass from the ground beside her. “I think we have you to thank for that.” 

Ginny turned and looked at your pointedly, waiting for your response.

You chortled, “No, no. Percy came back all on his own.” 

“But he’s staying for you.”

Without waiting for your response, Ginny stood and grabbed the picnic basket. 

“Enjoy the rest of your book,” she said before laughing wholeheartedly and walking inside. 

But you couldn’t read. Not anymore. Your mind kept repeating those words over and over. You felt a rock in the pit of your stomach. Nerves, fear, guilt, and a tinge of excitement. Percy was trying for you. 

 

A few hours and another feeding later, you found yourselves around the dinner table. Tomorrow was Easter, so tonight’s feast was a much lighter fare, mostly a hodge-podge of leftovers and a large salad of all the various vegetables Molly had already been preparing for tomorrow’s feast. 

You took your seat between George and Percy. Violet sat in your lap as she still couldn’t sit up on her own and she had just woken from a nap. She yawned wide before turning towards Percy, staring up at him with big moist eyes, just begging to be held. 

“Hey there, darlings,” he said to you and the child against your chest. 

Plates began to be passed around and Percy scooped mashed potatoes and salad onto your plate before passing over you to George. He offered you a smile here or there as he assisted as best he could. 

Everyone began to eat, forks clanking the only noise filling the room except the occasional spitting near-laughs Violet was emitting as George tried to make faces at her. George was determined to be the first to make her laugh. She’s been close a few times, but you both had decided that a single chuckle didn’t count.

“Vi,” Percy called beside you. You and your daughter turned immediately at the sound of his voice.

Percy smiled at your daughter and then at you. Looking at your face, he dropped his fork and reached up, gently brushing at skin by your temple, flicking at some kind of dirt there. You felt your breath hitch at the contact, an electric tingle cascading down your cheek at his soft skin met your own. His hand hovered a little longer at your ear than necessary as his eyes bore into you. You watched him bite as his lower lip before a coo from your daughter broke the spell. 

“Vi, This is garlic,” he said clearly, picking up his fork holding his fork up to her nose. If laughing was George’s game, smells were Percy’s. Everything that had an odor, he put to the baby’s face and watched her reactions. Every time he came for dinner, it was something new.

Violet watched Percy’s face, not the fork, but once the fork was within a good distance of her face, her nose scrunched and she shook her head.

Percy let out a hearty laugh. “Doesn’t like that one much, does she?” he asked as he dropped his fork dramatically onto his plate. 

Immediately, Violet let out a deep chuckle, followed by another and then another until she was stringing them together like it was something she did all the time.

You opened your mouth in shock for a moment before praising your daughter. You ran your arms up and down her sides and lightly shook.

“Good girl, Vi! Good job, baby. That’s it!” 

On one side of you, Percy was beaming. On the other, George threw down his fork and scowled.

“Gosh, Perce, you had to steal that one from me, didn’t you,” he pouted. 

You turned Vi in your arms to face George. 

“Laugh for Uncle Georgie?” you asked, still rubbing her sides. Immediately, she continued her giggles.

George immediately lit up, leaning down to grab at the girl’s face. 

“Alright. Alright, little one. As long as you’re sharing the love.” 

With a smile to George, you returned to your food.

“You know,” George began after a moment, “It’s almost like your her dad, Perce.” 

Now it was your turn to drop your fork. You looked at George, who was shovelling food into his mouth, not meeting your gaze. Looking at Percy was no better, as his face was as white as a sheet and his jaw clenched tight enough that you thought he might crack a tooth. 

You felt that cold rock in the bottle of your stomach return. Only this time you were sure it was guilt. What would Fred think? Would he hate how easily you’ve allowed yourself to focus on the joys of motherhood, of how much you had come to rely on Percy and his love of your daughter? And what of your own attachment to him? Was this not some sort of emotional cheater? Were you writing Fred out of his own daughter’s life?

You looked down at the soft auburn curls that adorned your daughter’s head. She was bobbing back and forth like nothing was happening. 

You stood so abruptly that Violet let out a light yelp. Your chair scratched obnoxiously at the floor. You didn’t even make to say anything before you were practically running out of the room, but before you could exit, Molly grabbed your arm. She simply reached forward to take your child. You muttered a quiet thank you before fleeing outside. 

Inside, Percy’s face was still tension, glaring at George. 

“What?” George asked as he realized everyone was staring at him. 

Without a word, Percy stood and followed you. 

He found you outside by the garage, sitting on a bench overlooking the meadow beyond. The sun was setting in the distance, causing the yellowed edges of the dried grass to glow. Your face was in shadow but the sun made clear the wet lines of tears down your cheeks. 

Percy slowly took the seat beside you, waiting for you to protest. You didn’t. 

“I’m sorry--” he began but you interrupted with a quick, “Don’t.”

“No,” he protested. Taking a deep breath, he turned to you, taking your hands in his own. Like every time previous, their softness startled you just a little and their warmth filled you with an immediate calm you didn’t know hands were capable of. 

“You know it is never my intention to replace Fred,” he whispered, locking eyes with you, “And if I ever do anything that crosses the line, please let me know. I’d never want to hurt you or Vi that way.” 

“You don’t, Percy,” you assured, rubbing your thumb in his palm, “Really, you don’t. Actually, I’m grateful for you.” 

You felt him relax, his shoulders lowering as he let out a breath. 

“I’m grateful for you, too,” he whispered, still staring intently at your face, though you watched his eyes drift down to your lips for a split second before returning to your eyes.

“You know, I was thinking, Y/N--” Percy began but you cut him off. Swiftly, you had leaned forward, your hands detangling from his hold to find home at the base of his neck. Your mouth came forward with quite the bit of force and met his still-open lips with a bruising kiss.

At first, he didn’t respond as you languidly moved your lips against his own. But once he processed, he leaned forward eagerly. One hand grabbed your hips, pulling you further against him. His other came up to gently cup your cheek, slowing you down and forcing you to feel his every moment. His lips were soft and gentle against your own. And once you felt his tongue tease at your lower lip, you reluctantly pulled away. 

You watched as Percy’s eyes flicked open. As he met your gaze, he pulled his hand away from your hip and swallowed.

“What was that for?” he asked, but then quickly corrected, “Not that I didn’t like it. I did. I just wasn’t expecting it.” He finished with a nervous laugh, scratching at the back of his neck. 

“I needed to see if that felt right,” you said as you played nervously with the hem of your skirt.

“And?” Percy asked.

“It did.” 

The air was thick between the two of you. You could see the sun reflecting on his white teeth as he tried his hardest to hide his smile. Ginny’s words echoed in your head.

Before you could stop it, you hiccuped as you began to cry, tears rolling down your cheeks almost instantly.

“Hey, hey,” Percy called, immediately by your side and holding you by the waist. He reached up to whip at your wet cheeks. 

You sucked down what tears you could and tried to meet Percy’s eyes but you just couldn’t. \

Reading your mind, Percy whispered, “Fred would want you to be happy.”

“And he wouldn’t want you to be happy, too?” you asked with a swallowed laugh.

“We both know Fred cared much more about you than he did about me,” Percy reassured, “And for what it is worth, I just want you to be happy, too.”

You were finally able to look up and meet the honest, kind eyes before you. They took in the setting sun in ways that highlighted the gold that was speckled within the ice blue, like lanterns set out to sea. You found yourself so tempted to lean forward once again despite the pain in your heart. 

“Is this cheating?” you whispered, more for yourself than Percy.

“Does it feel like cheating?” 

You took a moment to consider his question. “No,” you answered honestly. 

“Then we’ll take it slow. I like you, Y/N, though I figure you know that by now. But we don’t have to rush this. I’d like to court you properly if you’d be amenable to it. And if this ever feels wrong, if you ever think you’d rather go back to the way things were, just say the word. Whatever you need.” 

Percy finished his rant by kissing your hand before returning it to your lap. The cards were on the table now and the ball in your court. He was giving you the space to do whatever you saw fit. 

You simply stared down at the hand he gave you, thinking over what he just said. Could it really be so easy to go back to the way things were? Could you go back now, knowing how good and right his lips felt against your own, how gentle his touch on your kiss as he showed you affection reserved only for lovers? 

As you thought, Percy stood up and began walking back to the house. He was nearly out of earshot when you made a decision.

“Yes,” you yelled at his back.

He turned, “Yes?”

“Yes,” you said again with confidence, “Yes, I want this.” 

Percy took measured steps back to you. Once in front of you, he reached down to grab at your cheeks again. He watched your face as he leaned forward slowly. You closed your eyes, letting him know his kiss was welcome. Gently, he pecked at your lips with just a little bit of pressure, enough for you to know he meant it but chaste and pure and good. 

When he pulled away, he was smiling wide. He reached out to take your hand in his own. You gladly took his hold and allowed him to begin walking you back to the house, to your daughter, to your family, and to the life you already knew would change drastically as a result of what just happened. 

But your mind didn’t care. All you could focus on was the feel of the soft, warm hand holding your own, the long digits delicate wrapped around your palm, so different from the strong, calloused hands that once held you with such care. It was almost a year since you felt Fred’s hands in your own, almost a year since any hands had held yours with such love. But it didn’t matter. Percy wasn’t Fred. And Percy never would be. And just because you were opening yourself to a new set of hands didn’t mean the previous ones mattered any less. 

Fred would want you to be happy.


	6. May, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the Weasley family takes the opportunity to reflect on their loss. And you take two big steps to move forward with your life and let Percy in.

“Hey, Fred. It’s me. I’m here with your daughter, Violet… So I suppose I’m not princess anymore now that you have this little girl. I guess that makes me your queen now, huh? You would love her so much. She’s just like you, all laughter and smiles and only the occasional hissy fit… Did you know that? You have a daughter? Of course you know that. You probably know everything in the universe now… Or you know nothing and you aren’t even here and I’m just talking to a chunk of stone. Godric, I really don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” George whispered beside you. He held his hand on the top of the tombstone, a large grey slap that simply read “Fred Gideon Weasley. 1978 - 1998.”

George was supposed to decide on the phrase to adore the gravestone but had yet to get around to such an endeavor. He had consulted you about wanting to mention Fred being a father, as he would have loved nothing in the world more than Violet, and George wanted to make sure that whenever Violet came here as she got older she would know her dad cared, even if he had never even known she existed, but George hadn’t followed through on that yet. Someday, you were sure he would. But today was not that day.

George sat there caressing the stone, his eyes closed and head slung forward. He was muttering under his breath what sounded like prayers or maybe apologies, but it was clear he trusted that Fred could feel what needed to be said without actually saying it.

They had always had that kind of relationship, a natural telepathy that only two beings born together could have. But you and Fred had never been that way. Fred often complained that he needed a translator for your many subtle facial expressions and that translator came in the form of your own words.

And so you kept talking.

“I learned I was pregnant just a few weeks after you died. God, it hurt, Fred. I wanted you to be with me through this. I kept remembering just how excited you were that we were going to get to start a family after the war, but I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. But I had George and Percy to help me through. And your mother was amazing as always.”

You looked down at your daughter in your lap. She was quiet for once, which was so rare nowadays, almost like she knew the solemnity of the moment. You were propping her up by her flanks as she sat, swaying like a bobble-head, unable to hold herself upright for more than a second without your support. She flung her head and found herself falling back against your stomach, though she didn’t seem to care.

“I’m back at your house now. I couldn’t stand living in our apartment without you,” you said, “And, um, I’m dating your brother now, too.” You looked over to George to see if he had a reaction. He knew about you and Percy, the whole family did, but had yet to comment on the matter, which you found strange. Part of you really believed he hated you now for betraying Fred. Part of you believed he wanted you to stay the grieving widow forever, as though your mourning justified his mourning and together you could wallow in sadness for all time. Of course, he never said any of this, but your mind was just prepared for the judgment.

When George didn’t react, you continued, “Percy has been very… kind to me. I enjoy his company. He makes me laugh if you can believe it. And he’s been so helpful with Violet. I think you’d like the man Percy is trying to be. I think he’d make you proud. He’s certainly making me proud.”

You paused to pull at the grass, feeling that guilty knot in the pit of your stomach continue to build. You looked at the hand holding the blades and studied the beautiful sapphire still adoring the fourth finger. Another wave of guilt hit you, only this one for Percy, who you hadn’t thought until now might hate that you still wore the sign of your engagement to another. As if the pain of today wasn’t enough, a new emptiness filled you, one that made it hard to breath as you took in the glittering stone and Fred’s name engraved on the rock before you, hard, harsh, and permanent.

You pulled out your wand and conjured a small jewelry box. You began to pull at the ring on your finger but stopped as tears began to prick at the corner of your eyes. You felt yourself shaking and air escaping your lungs with each swell of tears.

“I love you, Fred,” you whispered between unsteady breaths, your tears now racking your body as you tried your hardest to build the courage to remove your ring.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and whipped your head up to see George kneeling beside you. He was clearly crying as well, though in a much more measured, constant way than your wails.

George’s hands came to grab at your wrists, rubbing at your joints gently as he waiting for your eyes to focus on him.

“It’s okay,” he said with a gentle smile, “Fred understands. And he’s not mad at you. You have to move forward. He’d want you to.”

You looked deeply into the eyes so similar to the ones you had grown to love all those years ago. Your mind couldn’t help but note the subtle differences. The rim of chestnut brown near the cornea was lacking, instead replace by rays of rich honey that shot out like a starburst. These eyes were not Fred’s eyes. Fred’s eyes were gone, never to be set upon you again. But these eyes before you were still just as kind and honest as always, still eyes you trusted and loved.

He added as you still hesitated, “You’ve found something that makes you happy, even after so much pain. I just hope I can do the same someday.”

You looked down at your hands and nodded. Below them you say your daughter playing intently with her own hands, exploring how each digit moved like she was counting to some insanely complicated number with only her fingers as guides. You smiled.

“It’s time, princess,” George urged, bringing a hand up to rub your shoulder. “You can let go.”

With a deep breath, you pulled at the beautiful metal, feeling the band slip over your knuckle. Your hand immediately felt lighter, albeit bare, a simultaneous sense of relief and emptiness.

Shakily, you opened the box, placed your ring inside, and laid the box upon the ledge at the bottom of the tombstone. Part of you wondered if you should keep the ring for your daughter someday and so you quickly cast a protection charm to the box. At your casting, George did the same, offering his own security to the most precious of Fred’s possessions.

You closed your eyes and uttered a prayer to your fiance, now formally your fiance no longer. Or was it an apology? Honestly, it was so hard to tell the difference. You felt your daughter kick as a few of your stray tears dropped down onto the soft spot atop her head. With some deep long breaths, you found the courage to stand.

“We should get back,” you said to George as you gathered Violet in your arms.

George nodded. He patted the top of the stone with a few spark raps.

“See you soon, Freddie boy,” he said before turning to you. “Ready?” he asked as he wiped his sleeve under his nose, catching the bits of moisture that collected there from his crying.

You simply nodded and held out your arm. George grabbed your elbow and apparated you and your daughter with him. You clung tightly to Violet, whom was trying her hardest to kick out of your grasp.

Swiftly, you found yourself in the Burrow’s kitchen.

Violet erupted in a fit of giggles. Slowly, you blinked open your eyes to see Percy standing in front of you. He was offering you a soft, sympathetic smile which Violet seemed keen to think was for her alone.

Molly called to you and George over the many mixing bowl beside her, “Good you are back. Y/N, everyone is in the living room as you requested. I’m just finishing up a few treats before we get started.”

“You heading out to the grave after this, Percy?” George asked.

“No, I feel I can honor Fred fine right here,” he said, still looking at you, “Besides, I think my time is better used supporting Y/N and Violet at the moment.”

George looked at his brother and you. He watched as Percy reached up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek with the back of his knuckle. George smiled, the first full smile you had seen on any Weasley face all day.

You watched as George walked over and hugged his mother from behind, resting his head lazily on her shoulder. With her wooden spoon in hand, she used what fingers she had available to hold his hands as they clasped around her neck. You watched George’s mouth as he whispered, “I love you,” sincere and true in a way George often avoided. Once Molly gave him a quick pat on his knuckles, he grabbed a cookie from the cooling rack and made for the living room.

You took the couple steps to follow George when Percy grabbed your elbows.

“How are you doing?” he asked with hushed voice, staring intently into your eyes.

“Fine.”

“Really?” he asked again.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you said dismissively, still sucking up a few tears from your nose in a way that completely undermined your point. You watched as he closed his eyes and nodded before releasing you. Another wave of guilt hit you. Percy was simply trying to offer you comfort and for some strange reason that made you angry. He didn’t deserve your anger but you had no place else to put it.

You did your best to paste on a smile before moving past him into the living room.

In a large circle composed of the couch, a few chairs and pillows on the floor, the entire Weasley family sat, each picking at a selection of sweets in the middle of the table, all Fred’s favorites.

You looked around the room. Harry sat in a large arm chair with Ginny securely in his lap. Their relationship has been quite hot and heavy the past few months, the threat of death having sparked an urgency in the both of them. Ginny had her hands deep in his messy dark locks and Harry was smiling so wide at her. Every other face in the room was completely somber. Hermione sat beside Bill and Fleur on the opposite side of the room from Ron, her return to school causing a tiny riff in their relationship that they were working on repairing. George took a seat on the floor beside Charlie. Charlie was deep in conversation with Arthur who was seeking Charlie’s insights on the styles and uses of Romanian hand-painted wood eggs.

Percy gestured to the rocking chair for you and Violet, pulling up a stool so he could sit beside you.

Once you were seated, Percy reached over to squeeze your hand once, an offer of support. You felt a tinge of your anger dissipate, as if sailing down your arms and out your fingertips, Percy taking on part of your burden all on this own.

Molly came in with a final tray before taking her place beside her husband, who immediately wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. Everyone’s eyes turned to you expectantly.

You bounced Violet in your lap as you began, “Well, thanks, everyone for coming. I guess I just thought it might be nice to get together. I assumed today would be hard for everyone.” You took a breath and looked to Percy, unsure of how to continued. Instinctively, he reached over and took your hand once more in his own, allowing you to squeeze as hard as you needed to get through.

“I was hoping we might make a tradition, not just for Fred, but for all the friends and loved ones we lost. To honor them by sharing their memories and their courage on this day. Last week, I just kept thinking about how cruel it is that there are so many wonderful things Violet will never know about her father and about all those who fought so hard just so she could have a good life. I want her to know those stories. But I don’t have all the stories to tell her. So maybe today, we could just talk, you know? Remember the good and happy things? The kind of stuff that makes us glad to have known Fred at all…” you felt yourself choking up but Percy’s hand rubbing your knuckles gave you the courage to continue. “I hope we can just talk in a way that helps those we love live on in our hearts just a little bit longer. It would be a shame if we let their sacrifice be forgotten.”

You took a few breaths and swallowed. You looked up to see a few facing smiling at you, the brightest of which was Percy’s, though Molly’s was a close second. But her eyes were not on your face, but on the way your hand was interlocked so delicate with her son’s.

The room was silent for a moment before Arthur piped up, “I can start.” He looked down at Molly, who kissed his cheek for encouragement. “The day Fred was born, we already knew he was going to be quite the troublemaker…”

Several hours passed with each member of the family recalling some anecdote about Fred: things about his childhood and his friendships, about his sense of right and wrong and eagerness to break the rules to see justice served. Harry talked about the day he received the Marauder’s map. Ron went into details about how Fred helped him get on a broom for the first time. Molly told the tale of the first time Fred had brought you home for Christmas, which had you blushing and shying away from Percy, although he seemed to find the story amusing, which surprised you given he didn’t come out looking so great in it. George talked about all of Fred’s work on Potterwatch. And Percy, Percy told the story of the moments directly before Fred died, of Fred’s acceptance and love for him even when he knew he didn’t deserve it. That one had most of the room in tears, you most of all, though Violet seemed to think it was an appropriate time to show off her mastery of the sound, “cha,” helping to heal some of the broken hearts in the circle.

When your turn came around, you had no idea where to even begin, so you started at the beginning, at the prank Fred played on you third year. He had kept telling you that you had a crush on him, which you were certain you did not. But he was determined to prove it to you. And so he gave you a candy he had concocted, one that would force violets to sprout from your ears every time you uttered his name. Soon, by the end of the day, you couldn’t hear a thing and had feet of vining flowers flowing down your robes like Rapunzel. You had the realization as Fred took his time countering his curse that maybe you did think about Fred a little more than was normal for friends.

You were surprised to find yourself not crying, but instead smiling, as you recalled the memory. Maybe this was a good idea after all. Fred felt closer somehow than he had in months, like a comforting angel looking down at you and telling you everything would be okay.

Another round of the room made way for stories about your other fallen friends. Charlie talked about his time with Tonks in school, Harry honored Sirius and Remus with many kind words. Hermione spoke of Dobby’s sacrifice. And everyone took turns until Violet’s cries for food made it clear that you had been sitting around long enough.

As everyone made for their bedrooms, they each came up and offered you a hug and thanked you for organizing the makeshift memorial. Ginny took the opportunity to whisper in your ear that you and Percy were cute before kissing your cheek.

Percy was last to reach you.

“You are so strong,” he said, grabbing at your free hand and playing with the fingers, “You amaze me, you know that?”

You simply stared at each other for a moment, a soft smile playing at your lips. Percy let out a nervous laugh as he watched your lips move, his face heating in a way that made you warm, too. He took Violet from your arms before bending down to place a delicate kiss upon your forehead.

“I think that was exactly what we all needed,” he said, “Thank you, darling.” With that, he left to feed Violet.

You looked around the now barren living room, cookie scraps covering the tables and pillows thrown haphazardly. And never in your life had you felt so alone.

As if reading your thoughts, Molly came in and stood beside you.

“Strange, isn’t it? A whole year gone by?” she asked, looking out at the room and not at you.

“Yeah.”

“Some days, it feels like just yesterday, but others, it feels like decades have passed.”

You simply nodded.

After a moment of companionable silence, you turned to Molly and said, “Do you think I’m–” but she didn’t let you finish.

“No.”

She turned slowly until she was facing you, her eyes wet with tears.

“Don’t you dare feel guilty for anything. Don’t you dare,” she said, her voice cracking, “Fred loved you once. And Percy loves you now.” You made to protest at that last one, but she wouldn’t let you. “I know he hasn’t said it. It’s way too soon. And he probably doesn’t even know it yet himself. But a mother knows. I know my son and I see the way he looks at you and I just know it’s true. So stop overthinking this, Y/N. We all support you. We all love you. If you want to honor Fred, just allow yourself to be happy. Please?”

She didn’t even let you speak as you watched a tear begin to roll down her face. She swiftly turned and fled up the stairs, leaving you again alone.

After a few minutes, Percy walked in, a sleeping baby in his arms sucking on a bottle.

“You’ve had a hard day,” he said softly behind you, “You should get ready for bed. I’ve got Vi.”

“Hey, Perce?” you asked, turning to him and completely ignoring what he had just said, “Do you think we could stay at your place tonight?”

You saw him tense at your words. For the past month, you had been spending three nights a week together, one with Violet and two without. Most of the time was spent eating dinner and cuddling up together at his apartment, enjoying some entertainment and each other’s company. A few of the night’s Molly watched your daughter, you had gone out for dinner and dancing or to explore a night market in the city, but each time Percy escorted you back home, kissing you chastely in the kitchen before returning to his own home. A sleepover hadn’t ever been discussed.

“I just don’t want to be alone.”

Percy sighed before meeting your gaze. “Of course, just pack the things you need.” And with that he walked back into the kitchen, baby in tow.

You quickly packed a bag, eager to be away from the Burrow and from these thoughts filling your mind with sadness. You threw in a few diapers and a change of clothes for yourself and not much else. Over the past few weeks, you had brought a collection of Violet’s things to Percy’s for when she came over to play, so you weren’t worried. It was just going to be a few hours anyway.

You didn’t think you had taken long, but when you came back downstairs, the sight you saw took your breath away. Percy was reclining on the couch his head slung back over the arm rest and his eyes closed in a peaceful sleep. Your daughter was curled lovingly into his chest. Her head was nestled just under his chin and her butt was high in the air, rising and falling with his stable breathing. His one arm securely around her waist and the other under his head, a perfect picture of domestic bliss.

Your eyes scanned his face, looking intently as his normally cropped hair brushed against the top of his ears. His freckles were lighter than usual from the months of winter, but still peppered the bridge of his nose. His lips were pink and parted, light noises escaping him, not full snores but not just breaths either.

You felt your breath hitch at the perfection of it all. Without warning, a wave of sadness hit you. ‘That should be Fred there’ your brain kept saying on repeat. You tried to suck in air but just couldn’t. Loud gasps escaped your body as you felt the tell-tale stinging in your eyes.

Percy’s eyes flicked open and with a moment, he was by your side, wrapping you in his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed, “I’ve got you. Just breathe, darling. Just breathe.”

He began breathing slow and exaggerated. You tried your best to copy his movements and soon you regained a bit of composure. His hands came up to clean your face, brushing at your hairline and running down your jaw.

“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked.

Instead of answering, you studied his face once more, but this time not for features but instead for expression. It was clear how worried he was, the wrinkles in his forehead more pronounced and the corners of his mouth tense. You thought about what Molly said about the way Percy looks at you. It was there. Something was there. This was real.

You reached up to touch the corner of his lip, hoping to wipe the tension again. He smiled against your hand and you found yourself leaning forward, kissing him full and good on the mouth. Percy held your face so gently in his hands but met your movements with those of his own lips, steady but ardent.

You pulled away when you heard Violet cooing on the couch. You stayed close to Percy, allowing him to hold you to his chest as you watched your little girl over his shoulder.

‘You can be happy. You are allowed to be happy,’ your mind said.

“Take me home?” you asked Percy as you pulled backwards to meet his gaze.

He simply smiled at you, leaning forward to kiss you once more before gathering your bag and your daughter and bringing you home.

Once in the apartment he placed your daughter on her playmat. He watched you turned to say something to him but exhaustion overcoming you, the emotions from the day taking their toll. You nearly collapsed, but Percy caught you and escorted you quickly to his bedroom. He pulled out one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants for you and left you to change, moving to the living room to keep Violet entertained.

Reentering his room several minutes later, Percy found you already curled in on yourself in his bed. He bent down to kiss your forehead, trying not to wake you.

“Rest, darling,” he whispered against your skin. And as he went to pull away, you gently grabbed his wrist.

“Thank you, Percy,” you said dreamily into the pillow before your hand went slack and slid from his wrist to lay lazily at your side.

Percy smiled down at your form, feeling a strange calm at you finding comfort among his bed sheets. Sure, he wished you weren’t feeling this hurt at all, but at least he knew he could make a difference.

He entered the living room of his apartment to find your daughter still on her playmat on the floor, staring up at the way the lamp cast shadows on the ceiling and trying desperately to get as many digits as she could lodged against her gumline.

Percy chuckled and picked her up. He watched her yawn so long he felt himself yawn as well. Percy looked around for her swaddle, but when he found you hadn’t brought any into his home, he simply place the girl in her sleep box. She flung her arms up over her head and continued her snoozing, clearly unphased by the lack of cocoon.

Percy placed the box gently on the floor beside where you slept, far enough away that your blankets couldn’t reach her. He watched his two girls in their slumber, feeling something good and right swell in his heart, before closing the bedroom door to allow the two of you your rest.

His hands touched the cold stone as he watched the sun fall further down the horizon. The day was coming to a close, commemorating the end of the first of many years without his brother, perhaps his favorite brother, beside him.

“Fred,” he began, pausing long to think about how to word what he wanted to say, “Thank you for loving me when no one else did, for believing in the good in me after so many years of showing you my very worst. I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”

Percy watched as the long shadow of the stone slowly morphed into the soft darkness of night, the edges fading away as light disappeared all over. Percy flicked the tip of his wand, silently commanding light to appear. He had thought he lost his non-verbal magic in the stress of the war but found himself regaining it of recent. He smiled softly to himself at the cause of his strength.

“And thank you for loving her, Fred. Thank you for loving Y/N the way she deserved. She’s strong and capable and kind and so, so beautiful, inside and out. And I know I have you to thank for helping her see just all she can be and the capacity of love she has to give to others. I guess I’m just really grateful that she might choose to give even an ounce of that love to me.”

Percy paused, staring down at the cold, unforgiving grave. He couldn’t help but think how impersonal it all seemed, just a plot of grass and a piece of hard rock to denote a life so fully lived. It felt wrong.

But then Percy thought of Violet – her joyous face, her bouncing hair, her constant babbles and beautiful dimples – and realized that she was a much more fitting memorial to Fred’s life than this place could ever be.

Percy bent down and kissed the cold stone. As he opened his eyes, his gaze was drawn to the small ring box that sat at the base of the grave. He knew immediately what it was and smiled sadly. Without another word, he apparated back home.

He slowly opened the door to his bedroom and saw you and your daughter still as deep in sleep as he had left you. Percy silently bent over and kissed Violet’s temple with the same soft love he had the stone.

“Thank you, Fred,” he whispered once more into the air as he pulled back his covers and wrapped his body around your sleeping form. His hands slid down your arms until he held your fingers in his own, feeling the absence of the protruding metal on your left. Holding you tight against his chest, he closed his eyes, allowing this day, the capstone of a year of hardship and sorrow, to pass away with the night.


	7. August, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party at the Ministry gives you the chance to see Percy in his element. And some time spent at home gives you teh opportunity to explore new parts of your relationship.

You came downstairs slowly as a result of your heels after spending an obnoxious amount of time getting dressed. You saw Arthur lying flat on the floor facing your daughter who had just recently started sitting upright on her down. She was precariously leaning forward, smiling as Arthur waved a variety of toys in her face, but she turned when she heard your voice.

“How do I look?” you asked loud enough to be heard by everyone on the first floor which included George reading on the couch and Molly at the sink in the kitchen.

Molly sped in faster than you could finish your sentence.

“Oh, honey, you look simply gorgeous,” she cooed, grabbing at the fabric of your skirt.

You wore a blue gown with lace detailing, one that you picked up because it reminded you of Percy’s eyes. You had done more care and maintenance to your hair and face than you had in months and found yourself actually feeling gorgeous. Your new body, while it didn’t really look the way you wanted in the mirror, definitely filled out this dress nicely. You just hoped Percy would agree.

You were attending a banquet for the Ministry tonight, a celebration of Kingsley’s first year as Minister of Magic. Much had been accomplished in his tenure. The dementors were gone, most of the departments had taken on new forms and new heads, Percy being one of the people to benefit. But much more work was still to be done.

“Even better than the Yule Ball,” George called up to you before returning to his book.

“Great compliment, George. I believe you said my Yule Ball dress made me ‘look like a troll.”

“That was only because Fred would not shut up about how much of a “princess” you were. Had to make sure your ego didn’t get too big.”

“What an amazing friend you are,” you laughed.

“No, seriously, princess, Percy’s probably going to have some trouble walking after he gets a load of you in that.”

“George Fabian Weasley!” Molly screamed, dropping your dress.

“What, mum? Come on? You gotta admit, the girl is gorgeous.”

Molly simply huffed beside you, but you felt your cheeks heating at the praise. It might have been a little crude, but you honestly were hoping a little that Percy might lose some of his composure upon seeing you. After months of dating, you were feeling ready to take things to the next level physically, but you were afraid, afraid of what he might think of you, of you having birthed a baby, of all the sex you were sure he overheard you having with his brother on various occasions throughout the years, afraid he might not even want you in that way at all.

You went to pick up your child, hoping she might distract you from your thoughts, when you heard the kitchen door open and Percy enter the home. Molly and Arthur went to greet him.

When you turned, you saw your man, tall and dapper in dark dress robes, his hair well groomed and his smile bright. But when his eyes scanned your body, his smile faded. Instead his mouth opened and you watched him exhale a breath. You heard George laugh from the couch.

“You— you, um,” Percy coughed a few times, before meeting your eyes again, “You look…”

“Edible?” George inserted.

“George!” you heard Molly scream from the kitchen.

Percy gave George a glare that could kill before turning back to you. His face was bright red and honestly adorable.

“I was going to say stunning. Beautiful. Breathtaking. I don’t know. But not that.” Percy took a few steps closer to you. “You’re perfect,” he breathed.

“You’re pretty perfect yourself.”

Percy smiled wide at you, giddy and full.

“Gross,” George huffed before picking up his book and entering the kitchen.

Percy turned his attention to the little girl on your hip. Violet didn’t greet Percy with the usual squeals and kicks and laughter that had become custom over the past few months. No, instead she just stared intently at his face before blinking a few times and nuzzling further into your chest, almost like she didn’t recognize him.

You were about to say something, remark on how she was probably just tired, when you noticed the dark frames on Percy’s face, tortoise shell on the top with gold at the bridge of his nose and under the lenses, pulling out the lovely brown of his freckles and drawing your eyes to the stunning blue just beyond the glass. Only then did you realize you hadn’t seen Percy in his glasses in months.

“You’re wearing your glasses,” you said out loud more to yourself than to him. You took a step forward with your hand outstretched, reaching for his face and the frames adoring it. But Percy sunk away nervously, pulling the glasses from his face before you could.

“Sorry,” he said, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “I always wear them at work. I guess I forgot.”

Your hands still came up to touch his cheeks, your eyes now focused on the patchwork of spots decorating his brow and nose, so pretty and intricate and mesmerizing.

“Why don’t you wear them all the time?” you asked, your voice inquisitive and soft as you allowed your fingertips to continue to connect the dots across his delicate skin. You watched as goosebumps spread over his neck.

“Well, I thought,” he swallowed and paused before continuing, “I thought I look better without them. I, um, i want to look good. For you.”

Only then did you meet his gaze. He was watching you intently, trying to gauge your reaction.

You leaned forward, your hand still on his jaw, and held him to you as you kissed him with intention. You would have lost yourself in the gentleness of his touch had the child on your hip not decided to fuss. When you turned her around again, she beamed at Percy’s now unobstructed face, babbling an incoherent parade of vowel sounds and flapping her hands outward. Percy took the little girl in his arms.

“See, even she likes me better without them,” he said, rubbing Violet’s back and bouncing her.

“She doesn’t know any different,” you emphasized before bending up to kiss his cheek. You took the glasses from his hand and placed them back on his face. “I personally find they make you irresistibly handsome.”

“Irresistible, huh?” he asked with raised eyebrows before setting Violet down in her playpen. He turned swiftly back to you and pulled you into his arms. He kissed your jaw and then your neck before hovering us above your ear. “Then maybe I’ll keep them on for the rest of the night. Finally seduce you proper, hm?” His hands roamed the small of your back and came to rest a little lower. He was about to squeeze at your rear when you heard Molly entering the room. You each pulled away.

“You two need to get going if you want to get there on time!” Molly shrieked, shooing you both out the door. “Go, go, go. We’ve got the little one. You two have fun!”

As you stumbled onto the patio, the front door swiftly shut beside you, you each let out a nervous breath.

“Shall we?” you asked as you composed yourself, reaching out your arm to apparate you both.

“No, allow me,” Percy said taking swift steps towards you. He pulled you against his chest. “You really do look stunning tonight, darling,” he said with a look of such awe that you felt your heart rate nearly double. Before you could respond you felt the world spinning and the next thing you knew you were standing on the streets of London, just outside the Ministry’s hidden entrance.

A man walking along shoved into your elbow as you stumbled further into Percy’s chest. You looked up at your boyfriend who was still smiling down at you.

“Why didn’t we take the floo network again?” you asked.

“I can’t hold you if we travel that way,” Percy responded with a big smile before kissing you nose.

He took your hand and led you onward, down the elevator and into the Ministry’s great entrance hall that had been converted into a giant banquet room, tables covered in food and towers of champagne lining the walls, a true sight of grandeur.

“Wow,” you whispered as Percy led you along towards the high tables that denoted where cocktail hour was taking place.

“Kingsley thought it would be good for morale to demonstrate what a prosperous new future we have when we work together.”

You were at the bar before you even spoke to another human. You knew this was intentional on Percy’s part as socializing and networking were of high priority to him. But clearly he wanted to get you settled before you had to play the adoring girlfriend on his arm as he talked about funding for such and such department and potions sales regulations or whatever the topic of interest was today. Honestly, you were kind of scared.

Your mind kept flashing back memories of the Percy that made everyone miserable just a few years ago, one so obsessed with pleasing his bosses that he put his family on the very last rung of his priority latter, climbing on top of it to get anywhere else. You remembered after the quidditch world cup Fred ranting to you about what a pompous buffoon Percy was becoming. And you remember just a year later Fred crying to you arter Harry’s trial when it was clear Percy had officially become just that. Work was the problem, always was. And you’d avoiding having anything to do with Percy’s job until today. What if he hadn’t changed at all? What if he just became better at hiding it?

Percy handed you a glass of wine as you made for a tall table towards the back of the room. Your eyes were scanning for people you recognized, though you were unsure of who might be in attendance. The party was mainly for heads of offices and those who helped with the transition, though Arthur had opted out in favor of giving you the night free to accompany Percy. The more you thought about it, the more you were beginning to see all the ways the Weasley’s approved of your relationship, which was honestly an adorable thought.

But before you could find anyone, Kingsley had already approached you both.

“Percy,” Kingsley said with much glee, eagerly taking Percy’s hand in both of his own and shaking vigorously. “And Y/N,” he added with a smile in your direction.

“Greetings, Minister.”

“Oh, Y/N, please drop the formalities. We spent how many late night together with the Order. The least you can do is show me the kindness of using my name.”

You smiled, shaking off your nerves, “Hello, Kingsley.”

“Much better,” he said, grinning, finally letting go of Percy’s hand. “So you are the one who has been keeping this man so happy and productive these past few months. You know they say behind every great man, there is an even greater woman.”

Before you could respond, Percy interjected. “I wouldn’t say she is behind me,” he corrected, grabbing your hand in interlinking your fingers, “She’s beside me. In front of me sometimes, but never in my shadow.” He turned and smiled at you, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. With the action, you felt yourself ease. This was new Percy. And if these men were to be believed, you were helping to keep him grounded. You found yourself returning his smile with ease.

“Wise words, young man. This woman here is quite the force. And what is it you are doing now?”

You felt yourself smiling before you could even speak. Your daughter had that impact on you.

“I’m raising my child, though soon I hope to start working. I’d like to do something that uses my skills in healing magic, but I’m not sure yet.”

“She’s the most amazing mother. Kingsley, you should see her. Violet is adorable and smart and affectionate, all because of her diligent care. I’m quite proud of her,” Percy was rambling but you felt your cheeks heating. You weren’t expecting to be the topic of conversation tonight, but knowing that Percy thought so highly of you, that having you on his arm was a point of pride for him, had you overwhelmingly happy. It was really easy to feel lesser being home all day and trying to keep a fussing child happy, but Percy’s words were sincere. He really saw the work you did every day and thought you strong for it. If you weren’t already dating the boy, he would have won your heart right there.

You were pulled back into the conversation when Kingsley asked, “Has Percy told you about his work restructuring the Wizengamot? Simply revolutionary. Eliminated the entire inheritance system in exchange for a committee selection. Really going to be the basis for us reducing some of the long standing blood status issues, and certainly going to help us internationally.”

You continued to nod your head through the entire conversation, smiling at Percy when appropriate, and piping in with little praises and questions as appropriate. But honestly it was hard to focus. It was clear that Kingsley found Percy to be essential to the rebuilding and restructuring that had been the focus of the past twelve months and you found yourself overwhelmed with pride and love for him. Your mind just kept repeating, ‘I love him, I love him,’ over and over, like a mantra essential to life.

It wasn’t until this very moment, standing here in these heels in a dress that matched his eyes, that you realized you were even capable of loving another. And love another you did. You were in love, fully in love, with the man Percy was, strong and sure and hardworking, kind in ways you didn’t know possible and funny in ways you didn’t know you’d enjoy. You loved him.

“Darling?” Percy asked, pulling your attention back to the table as you sat eating dinner. You had been pushing food around on your plate for some time, just letting your mind roam through the field it created in honor of the man beside you.

At hearing his address, your fork slid across the plate making a loud screeching sound. You winced at your own clumsiness.

“I was going to ask you to dance again, but maybe it is about time we go home?”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a moment to breath, “Yeah.”

You stood and took his arm as he escorted you to the nearest fireplace, his hand resting dangerously low on the small of your back. He let you enter before him. You said Percy’s address and let the green light consume you until you found yourself standing in Percy’s living room. You swiftly moved out of the way. Percy appeared behind you a moment later, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You look so beautiful today,” he whispered in your ear before kissing your cheek, “You look beautiful every day but this color is perfect.”

“It matches your eyes,” you said as you leaned back into his touch. His hands roamed your waist as his lips moved lower down your neck.

He simply hummed as he continue to pepper you with kisses.

“Love, love, love,” you brain echoed when his lips made contact with your collar bone.

Swiftly, you turned yourself in his arms and allowed your hands to bury themselves in his hair. Your lips attacked his with a fiery passion, sucking away any air that existed between the two of you. As if you light a match, Percy’s hands jumped at the chance to grab your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you across the room.

Your mouths roamed sucking at what flesh they could find, desperate to connect. Your teeth clanged once, which made you laugh before you repositioned your hands on his cheeks and began directing his head where you needed it to move. Slow sways as your lips pulled became the rhythm like an ocean of passionate current existed between the two of you.

Before you knew it, Percy sat down on the couch, his hands moving to your rear as you straddled his lap to get even closer.

As your lips moved to his neck, his hands explored the trail of buttons down your back. Each one he expertly flicked and pulled until he could run his hands down your bare spine.

You found yourself too desperate to feel his skin. Your mouth roamed his jaw, planting kisses along the way until you felt the blood rushing at the crock of his neck. You buried your face in the flesh there, taking in his scent before sucking slowly on his pulse. You allowed your tongue to lick his heated skin as you ground your hips downward, rocking into him. You felt the telltale sign of his need for you.

You smirked to yourself until you felt this hands jump from your back to your hips. He grabbed hard, stilling any movements you might back. You felt him tense.

“Stop,” he whispered. That one word made your stomach drop and a lump form in your throat. This was exactly what you had feared. Of course he didn’t want you. Look at you.

You reluctantly pulled your head from his neck, but couldn’t look him in the eye.

Percy reached his hand up under your chin, tilting your head until he looked at you.

“Hey,” he whispered, trying to get you to come back to yourself. You just swallowed.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked.

You hesitated. “I think so,” you said truthfully.

Percy sighed and ran his hand through his hair. After a moment, he returned to look at you, though his eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

“I want you, Y/N. So, so much it hurts sometimes. Especially times like today when you really are quite ‘edible.’”

You laughed despite yourself. You allowed your hands to rest on Percy’s shoulders so you could concentrate on his words.

“But I don’t want to rush this. My last relationship, with Penelope, ended because we did this too fast. Once we had sex, that became the focus. We’d sneak into the prefect bathroom during rounds–”

“That bathroom was good for that, wasn’t it,” you found yourself saying.

“You?” Percy began to ask, but then he gave you a half-smile, “Of course Fred snuck you in there.”

You just nodded, feeling ashamed at having brought up your past with his brother.

Sensing your insecurity, Percy reached again for your hips and began tracing small circles into the curves there.

“I wasn’t ready and I regretted it. And then we just fell apart. I can’t have that happen with you. I can’t let my body take priority over my heart this time. I –” Percy stopped to bite his lip, looking up to meet your gaze. “I love you, Y/N. And I want this to be special. So maybe we wait, just until we can both say this isn’t because we had one too many drinks or that we just needed a release?”

“I love you, too.” You didn’t even process the words before they came out of your mouth. But you found yourself smiling when you heard them in your voice. It was right and true, you knew. You loved the man holding you, the man telling you no, the man who loved you enough to want to do this the right way.

Percy’s face mimicked your own, smiling and bright, as he pulled you to him, burying himself in your chest. Percy’s hold felt different, lighter somehow, like saying the words eased him of all his anxiety towards you, like he was free to finally be fully happy with you.

Quickly, he stood and carried you to the bedroom, laying you down on his side of the bed. He planted a kiss on your brow before turning towards his closet, beginning to strip himself of his dress robes.

“I love you,” you repeated at his back.

“I love you, too, dear,” he said, shooting you a smile over his shoulder.

“And I do think tonight is special,” you said, pulling at the ends of the blanket.

Percy turned swiftly to you, holding a shoe in his hand that he had just removed. He raised an eyebrow and waited for you to continue.

“Maybe we take a baby step?”

“I’m listening,” Percy said, reaching down to pull off a sock.

You averted your gaze and uttered, “I mean we still haven’t seen each other naked.”

Percy laughed and swiftly finished his undressing, walking towards you in just his boxers. “I’m very pro nude cuddles,” he said, grabbing your hands and pulling you to standing.

Looking only at your eyes, he pushed down on the sleeves of your dress. You turned your head and watched the fabric fall over your skin down to your elbows. Waiting for your approval, Percy’s hands hovered over the fabric at the top of your breasts.

When you nodded, he pushed the material down, watching as your dress caught at your hips before falling all the way to the floor. You hesitantly reached down and pushed off your lace panties, though admittedly they didn’t cover much from his eyes to begin with.

His eyes roamed from your toes back to your face, a fast path and not one that lingered, but certainly long enough to see all of you. You felt goosebumps cover your skin at his appraisal.

“Beautiful,” he whispered before stepping forward to hold you once again, but you stopped him with a hand to the chest.

“You’ve seen me, now I see you,” you said, feeling such an ease pass over you at his approval, clear in his words and in his body.

Percy simply stepped back and held out his hands, as though offering you the opportunity to undress him.

You let your hands press on his hip bones before pushing at the fabric there. You tried your best to keep your eyes on his face but you simply couldn’t. Fred was your first and your only. Curiosity had the best of you.

But when the fabric fell to the floor, you only took a quick glance. You found yourself much more interested in his face. You wanted to see his expression, to work out any nervousness that might live there. But not an ounce of nervousness did you see, only a strong smile and a light pink in his cheeks.

“You seem awfully comfortable.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, stepping forward to hold you in his arms, allowing your heated flesh to press together for the first time. The touch was intoxicating and consuming in a way that had you overwhelmed. “I have the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on naked before me, wanting me and loving me. We got through the glasses thing. This is nothing.”

You felt blissful at his words. With a laugh, you turned in his grasp and lifted the covers, crawling into bed. You reached up and took his hand, pulling him under the covers beside you. Percy’s arms came around your torso, holding you securely against his chest.

“You know I used to always sleep naked before we started having sleepovers,” he whispered into your ear.

You found yourself laughing, “Me too. The pregnancy always had me so hot.”

“Well I’m glad now we can sleep in our natural states together,” he said, nuzzling even closer to your back.

You felt all of him against you, his length pressing firmly against your rear, his desire for you so apparent. But you didn’t feel nervous or self-conscious. If anything you felt so overwhelmingly happy. Percy was ignoring it for you, focusing on the emotions and not the physical. And that thought alone, the knowledge that this man behind you wanted nothing more than to do this thing right and make this relationship last, to love you with his heart before he did so with his body, was enough to lull you into a peaceful, perfect sleep.


	8. October, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first real fight as a couple gives you and Percy the opportunity to evaluate just how much you need each other, opening the door for you to take the next big step at solidifying your union.

Percy took your hand in his own when you paused outside the penguin exhibit. Violet sat in her stroller in front of you, blanket balled in up her hands as she looked eagerly around and making quite the commotion with her voice, mostly a rhythmic “ma” over and over, something she started doing after you praised her incessantly about it last week.

A Saturday off for Percy meant a muggle day for the three of you: lunch, the zoo, exploring the London shops, dinner, a proper sleepover. Percy had specifically requested you get out of your normal comfort zone. The Ministry had so many projects going on simultaneously, many of which intersected with Percy’s work, that he was feeling the tension all over. He needed a break and you were happy to give it to him.

His thumb ran delicately over your knuckle as you bent down to talk to Violet. You pointed to the various penguins, showing her how they were moving and swimming. Violet was engaging her hands around the blanket she held but her eyes actively traced your movement, the black and white animals quick enough to keep her entertained but slow enough that she could follow them.

As you stood, you felt your hand being pulled upward. You turned to see Percy brushing his lips against your fingers, more breathing on them than kissing them, as though comforted by their closeness.

“Thank you,” he said as he rubbed his cheek against your palm before dropping your hands once more. “I’ve needed something domestic.”

You laughed, “My whole life now is domestic things.”

Percy squeezed your hand as you pulled apart, needing your hands to push the stroller forward. Your dismissive tone made it clear that parenthood was weighing on you. You had been speaking of recent about returning to work, about using some of the money Fred had left you to put Violet in daycare a few days a week, not wanting to burden Molly with the childcare.

Percy’s brain started churning as you continued to walk thinking of ways he might help you.

Outside the giraffes, Violet started to get fussy. She wasn’t due for food but seemed to no longer be entertained by her blanket. She dropped it once, and then another time, before shaking her head and uttering a slurred, “no.”

You sighed and reached into your bag, pulling out the stack of plastic cups she had grown to love in the last few weeks. You held out a green one and she grabbed at it eagerly, rolling it in her hands like it was going to reveal life’s mysteries to her.

“You know it might be worth letting her cry it out sometimes,” Percy said. At his words, you stopped and turned your face up to him, confused.

“She just likes having her hands engaged. It’s not an issue,” you said, hoping he would get the hint and not try to correct your parenting again.

“I was reading in one of my books the other day that this age is a very clingy time for babies. If you want to go back to work, it’d be worth trying to ease her away from relying on you so much.”

You continued around the remaining exhibits, though you felt your jaw tense the entire time. It was a little thing, what he said. He did that sometimes, rambled on a subject, not realizing it sounded critical. Percy just offering insights. You tried your best to let it slide.

As you took a break, hoping to get a snack in Violet’s belly, Percy picked her up from her stroller and carried her in his arms as he went to buy you both something to drink. While you organized your things, you overheard an older woman address you daughter and boyfriend.

“Oh, she’s just a darling little thing, isn’t she? Looks just like her daddy.”

Violet shied into Percy’s chest at the attention. Percy simply wrapped his arms tightened around her before responding to the woman.

“Thank you,” he said with a genuine smile and a kiss to Violet’s head, “Though I can assure you, she gets the good looks from her mother.”

The woman laughed as she walked away, waving at your daughter.

You felt your heart retch at the words, not at the lovely compliment your boyfriend had just given you, but at the easy assumption that woman made that Percy was Violet’s father. Of course, the Weasley coloring was quite distinct. It was an easy assumption to make. But was Percy essentially Violet’s father? Was that why he felt he could tell you how to raise your child?

When Percy returned with a water for you, he sat down with Violet in his lap. He handed her the small pieces of cereal in between sips of his drink. After a while, she started to fuss, trying to reach over the table to you. You stood and picked her up. She immediately lit up, grabbing at your hair and nuzzling into you.

“See? This is what I was saying. She’s never going to–” Percy began, looking at the empty spot in his arms where Violet had just been.

“Percy, please don’t tell me how to raise my child,” you warned, feeling more on edge than before after that woman put those thoughts in your head.

“I just think if you want to–” Percy began again.

“You don’t get to think about this, Perce. You’ve never been a parent. Please just let me do what’s best for her.”

Percy’s eyes shot up to meet your gaze, his brow knitted.

“So you don’t think I have her best interest in mind? You don’t think I love her and care for her same as you?” he asked, his voice heavy.

All the tension you had been holding immediately snapped. Of course he didn’t love her the way you did. Of course he didn’t have her best interest in mind at all times the way you do. She is your daughter. Yours. He’d do best to learn that.

But you didn’t have the words. You only that the empty feeling in the pit of your stomach that Percy was trying to steal the one thing in the world that you had right now. You didn’t have a job to make you feel productive. You didn’t have projects that had milestones to accomplish. What you had was your daughter. Her first words. Her first steps. Her growth and learning and development. That was yours. And you weren’t about the share that with anyone.

You threw your things in the stroller and immediately began walking. You felt the tears in your eyes and you picked up your pace. You heard Percy call behind you: your name, a few scattered “waits,” and “I’m sorry”s. But your tears were blocking out the sounds.

Once you were out of sight, around a corner and behind a bathroom, away from the eyes of muggles, you snapped yourself and your daughter away.

Percy rounded the corner to find only your stroller and a lone green plastic cup, now his responsibility to take home alone.

The next morning, Percy knocked on the kitchen door of his childhood home. He hadn’t slept a wink. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion and unshed tears. You were supposed to spend the night last night, but instead his bed had been empty and cold.

After the third knock, Molly opened the door. She didn’t bother speaking, simply opened the door further to allow him to come in and slink down at the table. Molly had tea for him before he could even ask.

“Is it safe to assume you look this way for the same reason Y/N spent the entire night on the couch crying?” Molly asked, taking the seat across from her son.

“She did?” Percy asked, his voice heavy with sadness.

“Yes, she did. Seemed like whatever you did really hurt her.”

“There’s no chance she’d want to see me, is there?” he asked.

“Depends on what it is you have to say.”

“Sorry?” Percy said, unsure.

Molly sighed, “Percy, tell me what happened.”

And so he did. He told her about the day, about how in his mind everything was going well until he tried to help you prepare Violet for daycare. He couldn’t finish though because Molly cut him off.

“Did you offer advice or did you criticize?”

Percy thought for a moment, taking a sip of his tea. As answer, he groaned and laid his head against the table.

“I can’t lose her, mum,” he whispered as he began to cry, realizing the old him had made an appearance. “She wants to start working again and I am so worried. I just don’t want her to feel like she’s doing this all alone.”

Molly reached out to stroke her son’s hand, “You aren’t going to lose her, Percy. She loves you. But you are my son and I know you well. Your intentions are good, she knows that. But you can be quite the know-it-all, love. Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe this is something about which Y/N is uniquely expert? That she wants to do this alone and doesn’t need your intervention? Maybe you should let her invite you in instead of inserting yourself for once.”

Percy hadn’t. In his mind, helping had always meant doing. It had meant taking on more responsibility. He honestly hadn’t thought that maybe you didn’t want or need that, that maybe you just needed to know he was there if you chose to use him.

“I need to talk to her,” he said, shooting his head up from the table. “Godric, I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are,” he heard you say from the doorway, “But you’re my idiot.”

You were in your pajamas and your eyes were puffy. Percy felt like an even bigger ass taking in your appearance. You moved beyond the two of them to get your coffee from the stove. Molly dismissed herself as Percy stood and walked towards you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered behind you, unsure if he could touch you or not.

You turned to meet his eyes, to see the honesty there.

“I’m sorry, too,” you replied, setting down your mug to bury yourself in his chest. Immediately, his arms came up to hold you to him.

“Shhh,” he hissed into your hair, “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You snorted out a laugh, “I ran away instead of having a rational conversation. That’s insane and you shouldn’t put up with it.”

He laughed, realizing how right you were.

“I just don’t have much going for me right now. The idea that the one thing I spend all day doing I am somehow doing wrong is painful. The idea that the man I love thinks I’m not good at this and that he believes he is capable of caring as much as i am on top of all of his other responsibilities… It just made me feel really low and I lashed out.”

Percy’s hands continued to stroke your hair as you spoke. He felt like he was seeing a whole new side of you, one that wanted approval and love just as deeply as he did. He had always viewed you as a fiery, independent spirit, and hadn’t really considered all the insecurity that might lie underneath.

“You are an amazing mother. A beautiful, caring, dedicated mother. And I am in such awe of everything you do every day. I love you. I just want to be here for you. I know I spoke out of turn and I will do my best to let you take lead. Tell me what you need from me. Otherwise, my mouth is shut,” Percy said, kissing the top of your head.

You cried lightly into his chest, glad you had been open and honest and resolved your miscommunication. This had been your first fight, and you got through it stronger now than you were 24 hours ago.

“Come over tonight,” he begged into your hair, “Come over and let me show you just how much I love you.”

“Can Violet come?” you asked, beginning to hear her babbles in the living room, signs that she too needed her breakfast.

“You don’t have to ask,” Percy said softly as his hand came up to brush the hairs by your ear. “I signed up for both of you.”

You laughed, knowing the truth of it now. And as you began to pull away to tend to your daughter, Percy pulled you back into his arms, saying goodbye with a passionate kiss to your lips before heading off to work.

Percy was finishing up his dinner dishes when he heard you enter via his fireplace. He finished his scrubbing and walked into the living room, expecting to be greeted by babbles and bags of toys. But instead he found you and just you.

You were wearing a soft grey dress, one that he loved for how comfortable it made you look. It was the kind of casual t-shirt dress that you could wear to bed as well as out. Seeing you so comfortable, the loose fabric just hinting at your curves and brushing at the lower part of your thighs, had him smiling. Before you, he hadn’t known how the most mundane things could be so beautiful, so alluring, but this you was sexier to him than any fancy dress or expensive lingerie.

“Where’s Vi?” he asked from his spot near the kitchen door.

He watched you play with the hem of your dress in nervousness.

“Molly thought we could use some time alone,” you said, finishing with a look up at him from under your lashes.

“Good,” Percy said, taking quick strides towards you. Within moments, he backed you against the wall, pinning you with his hips before his lips found yours with force and passion.

The air left your lungs as Percy devoured you. His body was pressed flush against you, the cold brick of his wall against your back heightening your senses. His lips sucked at yours. His hands roamed your sides, bunching your dress around your upper thighs, giving him access to position himself between your legs. And his words came out between kisses, heavy and breathless.

“Beautiful,” he said over and over. “I love you,” filtered in between. And “Forgive me,” like a prayer against your neck.

You met his passion in turn, your hands holding his back to you, reaching up to pull at his hair, to move his head, to stroke his neck as you tried desperately to get closer to him.

You felt him grind against your core as his hands lifted your dress even higher. You raised your arms to allow him to remove it completely, feeling overwhelmingly warm at his attention, the fabric suffocating you as the heat spread throughout your body. Percy responded eagerly.

The feeling of cool air catching your ribs had your breath tighten in your chest but you didn’t have a chance to adjust. Percy’s mouth traced down your neck and clavicle until he was kissing at the pump swell of flesh just below. His hands found your hips and pulled you forward, slowly guiding your body to his bedroom as he continued to attentively dote on your breasts.

You were completely consumed by him as your back hit the mattress. Everything was moving so fast but no part of you desired to stop it. After the fight, you knew now that you wanted all of him. You wanted to be one with him, to feel him wholly and to allow him to feel you. You needed him desperately, so sure that this was real and permanent now, your communications all the better.

Foreplay was short and unnecessary, both of you needy for each other in a way you hadn’t been before. His hands roamed your body, stripping you bare as the kisses continued, lightly cupping at your sex as you rolled your hips urgently.

Soon, Percy too was nude and hovering over you, pressing himself against you in teasing, excruciating torture.

You threw your head backwards, turning your cheek to bury your face in the pillow. You wanted to focus on the feel of everything, but more importantly, you wanted to hide the embarrassment that was clear on your face.

Your body had changed so much since the last time you had done this. Your breasts hung an inch or so lower from feeding, their undersides covered in vines of stretch marks, now slightly faded but still quite visible. You didn’t recognize parts of yourself in the mirror anymore and you worried that your sex appeal may have disappeared with your baby bump.

But just as your cheek felt the cold relief of the pillow, Percy’s hand found your jaw and pulled you back center.

“Look at me,” he said, his gaze focused solely on your eyes, intense and needy. You could do nothing to break the gaze.

His face was a mere few inches from your own. His icy blue eyes like seas in which you could easily drown. And you felt yourself doing just that. You focused on their depths and swirls, a ring of grey on the outside and speckles of gold littered throughout. If you studied hard enough, it was almost like the golden flecks were moving with the cast of pale light that made its way through the window.

You did as he commanded, holding his gaze as you felt him reposition himself between your thighs. His hand ran up your side, just grazing your breast before grabbing at your fingers. He pulled your hand along until it was right beside your head. He interlocked his fingers with your own and held them close to your face so the back of his hand was pressed firmly against your cheek.

And as he held your stare, his breathing swallow but constant, you felt him push inside you, slow and painstaking, as if afraid he might break you.

Your breath hitched. You bit your lip, but you did not break his gaze. You saw a tension and nervousness at the corners of his eyes that eased once he bottomed out. He took the opportunity to focus on you, gently rubbing his hand against your cheek as he waited for each of you to adjust.

Unable to speak, you simply nodded. And with your approval, Percy began his slow rhythmic movements within you.

It wasn’t the best sex of your life. You certainly were not overwhelmed by waves of pleasure. But it was definitely the most intense emotional experience you had ever had. Never had sex felt so important. With Fred, sex was loving, yes, but in a way only a teenage boy could love. It was frantic and messy, usually him throwing your skirt up as he pushed your chest against a wall in one of the secret tunnels he loved so much, whispering his love for you with his words but showing his lust for you with his body.

This wasn’t lust, though. This was love, with words and body and soul. Love encompassing and all-consuming. Love that might break you if you let it.

As you held his gaze and watched every twitch and emotion flick across his face, you were overwhelmed by a powerful feeling of longing, something so tight and raw in your chest that you felt yourself on the verge of tears.

But before those tears could exit your eyes, you felt a wetness hit your face. Several tears rolled down Percy’s cheeks, his movement slowing as he tried his hardest to not be overwhelmed.

You brought your free hand up to caress his jaw.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

Percy couldn’t speak, but instead crashed his lips into yours, urgent and forceful. You fell into him, like Alice through the rabbit hole, the pillows consuming you as you lost your mind to his touch.

In the heat of it all, Percy’s hips picked up their pace. His hand grabbed at your leg and pulled up your thigh towards your chest, allowing him deeper access to you, your connection even closer and more desperate than before, like each of you needed to feel as close as human bodies could ever be. You rolled your hips to meet his pace as your lips still sucked and pulled at his. It only took a few minutes for each of approach your peak.

You clung tightly to him as your orgasm overcame you. If you hadn’t been crying before, this would have made you, the tension so strong that the snapping was almost painful. You felt how Percy was impacted by your body’s clear release, his movement growing frantic as he neared his end.

As Percy came, he pulled away from your kiss, his lips moaning out your name in stuttered breaths as he stilled inside of you.

“I love you, too,” he finally whispered as he frantically tried to catch his breath, burying his face in your shoulder.

You brought your hands up to stroke his back as he laid, his length still securely between your thighs, though soft and unobtrusive, like a welcome reminder that you were coupled once and could be coupled again, like you were meant to be joined and it didn’t have to be a big, momentous thing.

Though this had been big, and it had been momentous. Never had sex felt so raw, like two souls joining each other as opposed to two bodies.

As you felt Percy nuzzle your neck, offering you a few gentle kisses, you wondered if this was how it was always supposed to be. In a weird way, you felt like you had lost your virginity once again. Like you were starting a new chapter in which you didn’t know the rules anymore and were walking out with unsteady footing.

Then you remembered Percy’s tears and realized this was uncharted for him, too. Whatever was between the two of you was different than anything either of you had had before.

But was that really all that surprising? You were different. So very different. You had a child now. You had suffered catastrophic loss and you had come out the other side tougher and stronger. You weren’t the teenage girl caught up in a whirlwind courtship, drunk on your hormones and the forbiddenness of it all.

No, you were a woman grown. A woman who wanted comfort and stability and deep, deep connection. Something all-consuming, yes, but without any of the recklessness. Something just like Percy.

“I really do love you,” you said again as you stroked his hair, this time feeling how deeply you truly meant it.

You felt Percy tilt his head as though confused. He rolled to his side, removing himself from your body and you felt the absence so acutely that you found yourself rolling with him without your mind processing that you were doing so. Before you knew it, you were nuzzling into his neck as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to his side.

“I know, darling,” he said, but after a moment added, “I felt that, too.”

You listened as his breathing continued to slow, felt the even rhythm lift your head as you rested. Slowly, sleep took Percy and as you watched his peaceful form, you found yourself trying to memorize the smallest details of him: the number of freckles on his collarbone, the range of blonde to red to brown that made up the faint hairs of his chest, the soft contours of muscles lining his stomach as they dipped down towards his hip bones.

Slightly to your dismay, your brain conjured the image of another bare torso that often laid under your head. You used to love remembering that body, remembering the feel of those hands and the patterns of that breathing, recalling the hard muscles and broad shoulders that once were your bed. But now those images felt so foreign, felt like the remnants of a you that died long ago.

In some parallel universe, your head still rested on that chest. Your hand, clad in a precious sapphire and maybe even a smaller, more delicate band by now, ran through coarser hair and across a torso hardened from exercise. Your neck strained to reach the top of that shoulder, broad and inviting, as a voice called you “princess” and teeth nipped at your ear.

But in that universe, you weren’t you. You lived a different life that made you a different woman, a woman that sadly you’d never come to know.

In this version of space, in this place, you gladly welcomed the feel of softer flesh under your palms, fingers feeling the light bumps of ribs as opposed to knots of muscle. This you, this you that knew loss and love and fear and joy in ways you couldn’t have imagined two years ago, needed a voice calling her “darling” while gently kissing her forehead,

You shook the image out of your mind to focus on the one in front of you; Percy deserved your full attention. Everything about him was beautiful. Beautiful because it was yours to love. Beautiful because it was within your grasp. Beautiful because it loved you in turn, soft and warm and understanding, slow and measured. Beautiful because every ounce of care shone through his skin like a beacon calling to a lost ship, pulling you in to find a shore to rest.

And so you rested yourself on the beach that was Percy, exhausted from your long journey here, but glad to have found land, especially land as beautiful as this one.


	9. May, 2000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Victoire Weasley raises a few questions about where your relationship with Percy is heading.

You watched from the window over the kitchen sink of the Burrow as Percy tried to get your daughter to kick the ball in front of her. He was bent over and clapping his hands encouraging her to move her legs, but she seemed uninterested. Violet kept bending down and picking up the ball with an exaggerated, “up,” and a smile on her lips every time she did. Her legs were still wobbly and inconsistent when she walked and the few kicks she did give made contact with the ball but did little to give it movement. Percy wasn’t frustrated, but rather thoroughly and whole-heartedly amused.

You clutched your coffee mug to your chest as you observed Percy take a seat in the grass in front of her, pulling Violet into his arms as she clutched the ball tightly in her little hands. You couldn’t hear her squeals but could see the joy and laughter all over her face. Percy was tickling her neck with his nose and her torso with his hands. You couldn’t help but think how lucky your daughter was to have him in her life. Or how lucky you were.

You felt a hand come to rest on your shoulder, soft fingernails tapping on your skin. The person beside you took in the sight out the window and let out a sigh.

“He’s really quite good with her,” Molly said with pride in her voice.

“He’s the best,” you sighed, taking a sip of your mug as you continued to watch the beautiful domestic scene before you.

Molly hummed, a sing-songy knowing hum that she often did when she felt like she had something to say but was unsure of whether it was appropriate to say it, just hoping you’d ask her to elaborate so she wouldn’t have to make the decision.

You took the bait.

“Oh, I just think Percy might like kids of his own someday with you,” Molly said, quickly turning to the center island, pretending to organize ingredients there, though you clearly saw the smirk on her face before she was out of view.

You swallowed down the small lump in your throat.

“Has he said something to you?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, no. Just a mother’s intuition.”

You returned your eyes to your boyfriend and daughter still playing in the yard, trying to will the churning in your stomach to ease. Just last week Fleur gave birth to a daughter, Victoire, which offered with it a multitude of mixed emotions. It was the anniversary of Fred’s death, which would, you suspected, always be the worst day of your life. You missed him still, but loved the new life you had created in the aftermath. And a new baby, one that was officially a Weasley in name and birth and right, in a way you felt your daughter would never be as a result of your position as always just the girlfriend, never the wife, had you aching.

You loved your daughter so desperately but watching her grow was kicking your maternal instincts into overdrive. The bassinet was empty. Her bottles stored away to make room cups and tiny spoons. You were deeply in love with a man who had already proven himself time and time again to be a caring, loving father. You wanted another baby, Percy’s baby preferably.

You wanted a lot of things, if you were being honest. You had just come upon your first anniversary, way too soon given everything to jump forward with more life plans, but you knew this was right. You wanted to be Percy’s wife, a Weasley proper, to build a family and a home together, to give him children and love him truly.

But something about that phrase, “kid of his own,” stung, like if you did build a life with Percy, somehow your daughter might always be lesser that his biological children, never fully loved and never fully cared for. In so many ways, Violet was Percy’s child, in action and in truth if not in blood. But would he see it that way?

The sound of the kitchen door pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see Percy smiling wide at you, your daughter snug in his arms facing him, pulling at his glasses but not fully understanding how they come on and off of ears. After finally giving up, she turned in his arms to look at you.

“Mama! Mama!” she squeaked, reaching her hands out into the space between you, completely unaware of the perilous balancing act to which she was subjecting Percy.

“Yes, that’s your mama,” he said, taking a few steps forward so she could properly fall into your arms.

Once you were holding her, she added an “up,” with a bounce and kick of her legs.

“Up? You are up, pumpkin,” Percy said before leaning forward and giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead. “My girls,” he added as breath against your skin.

Immediately, you felt the wave of anxiety you had wash away, down your back and away like water. Girls, he said. Girls plural.

“No, up!” Violet protested. Once Percy pulled away, you lifted her into the space above your head, launching her into a fit of giggles.

“When’s Bill getting here?” Percy asked Molly as he plucked a few grapes from the bunch on the counter. His movements were light and springy, like playing with Violet was a much better wake-up than your coffee.

“After lunch.”

The rest of the family had yet to meet the new baby. You and Molly had gone to help with the birth and care of the newborn, but this would be the first big family visit.

“Great,” Percy said to Molly and then redirected his attention to you and Violet. “You know what that means? More playtime!” At the last words he tickled your daughters sides causing her to laugh and squirm. You laughed in turn, wondering what had Percy so pepped up this morning.

Percy moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you to him and sandwiching your daughter in between.

“We can wake up uncle Charlie and he can put you on the broom like he’s been saying.”

“No more than three feet off the ground, Percy,” you warned.

“Of course, dear,” he said as his hands drew circles on your hips.

“And maybe over something very soft, too?”

“Anything you want,” Percy said, his words a mere whisper as his hand came up to caress your face, his long fingers brushing at the skin of your temple so delicately. You leaned into his touch, not realizing how much you desired him after seeing him and Violet play. His fingers caused electricity to course down your spin, churning your stomach in a new, much more delightful way than earlier. You saw him let out a long breath at your movement. His eyes met yours, pupils a little larger for the action.

“I love you,” he breathed, closing his eyes as his fingers ran the length of your cheek. When he opened his eyes again, he found the corners of your lips pulling ever so slightly into a smile.

But before you could respond, Molly interrupted with another knowing hum, this time one she tried to hide by turning it into a full-blown tune. You let out a light chuckle.

“Mama, buba?” Violet asked, pulling you from Percy’s spell.

And so you went about the rest of the morning, feeding your daughter, enjoying the companionship of your boyfriend, and listening to the somewhat smug noises coming occasionally from the kitchen.

You had just laid Violet down for a nap when Bill, Fleur and baby Victoire arrived. Molly was immediately on top of them, smothering her son in affection before stealing his child from him. You and Percy greeted the couple, offering each a hug before settling down in the living room.

Percy noticed you frowning as Molly continued to dote on the child, talking to Fleur about all the wonderful things the ten day old was doing. Bill had his arms snug around his wife’s waist, looking on with such pride at his family.

“Hey,” Percy whispered to you, grabbing at your side to pull you closer and get your attention, “What’s got you down?”

You turned in his arms to face him better, not wanting to be overheard.

“Fleur just gave birth and she already looks like a goddess, beautiful and thin and well-rested. Months after giving birth, I still looked like a forest troll.”

“No, you did not,” Percy said, cutting you off. “ You were beautiful and strong and bursting with love. You were full veela then, I promise you. I would know, I was the one under the spell of your siren song. Still am, I guess.”

You chuckled at his words.

“Besides,” Percy continued, leaning forward to rest his head against yours conspiratorially, “the only reason she is so well-rested is because she had your help those first few days, don’t forget that. She’d be worse than a forest troll without you. A river troll. Those are uglier, right? A ghoul, just a haunted nest of hair and slime. Or how much sleep do banshees get?”

You were practically in hysterics now at Percy’s rather silly mixed compliments.

“And what are you two lovebirds on about?” Bill asked from the other side of the room, forcing you to pull your head away from Percy’s.

“Just complimenting my love on her beauty and compassion. Though I am completely unsure as to why she finds my praise so funny,” Percy said to his brother, pulling at your hip at the last few words, increasing your giggles.

As you caught your breath, you settled back against Percy’s chest and watched Molly and the baby. Everyone else would be coming over for dinner to celebrate the child, and so you tried your best to enjoy the peaceful time you had before the house got crazy. Percy’s arms around you, cuddling you as you listened to the soft cries and whimpers from the newborn felt right and calming, though it didn’t help the way your brain was running away with thoughts of babies with him someday.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Percy whispered into your ear after fifteen minutes of silently watching Victoire. The couple had just moved upstairs to feed the child, leaving you both alone in the living room.

You hummed your approval for him to continue, wiggling your back to press further into his hold.

“I thought you a beautiful goddess long before you gave birth, long before it was even right for me to look at you in that way.”

You felt your heart speed up at his words. Part of you had always wondered when his feelings for you developed, how he could so easily transition from seeing you as Fred’s girlfriend to seeing you as someone he could love. But you had never dared to ask, worried that maybe he had never actually looked at you in that way until you had made it abundantly obvious you were interested. You didn’t want the disappointment of knowing Percy may only have made a move because you were easily available to him. Low hanging fruit and what have you.

“I remember fourth year after another failed prank to get your attention, Fred coming and sitting down beside me at breakfast and telling me, ‘I’m going to marry that girl someday, Perce.” And I remember looking over at you and really seeing you for the first time. Hearing your laughter. Watching your lips move as you told some exciting story. Seeing the way your eyes got bright when you smiled. And I remember thinking how lucky Fred would be if he made that a reality, to have such a beautiful soul to love him in return. And then when he started bringing you by the house and it just got worse. Seeing you come downstairs in pajamas. Overhearing you get along so well with my mother. Watching as you responded with such love every time Fred threw an arm around your shoulder. I couldn’t help but be jealous of what a lucky bastard my brother was for having you. And honestly, you were part of the reason I wanted to change, to come back to my family.”

The entire story had your heart soaring, with just a tinge of sadness creeping in, until those last words. At those last ones, you were stunned, whipping around to meet his gaze.

“Really?” you asked, your eyes flicking between his, too close to take in both.

“Yeah,” Percy continued, “I was so isolated after everything that went down with the Ministry that one night I was by myself in my apartment thinking about what I wanted with my life. For so long, it was to be successful, to have the money I didn’t as a child. But being alone in my apartment without my family or my friends when I was in such need of companionship was a wake-up call. And my mind conjured one image; sitting across from you and Fred at Christmas. Fred was nuzzling your shoulder and you were laughing as everyone smiled and ate dinner together. And I realized that was what I wanted. I wanted the love of my family. I wanted a wife to bring home for the holidays. I wanted children who loved each other the way my siblings did. I wanted what you and Fred had built, a trusting partnership. And so I came back.”

You felt yourself crying at his words. You had no idea your love, albeit for another, had been the beacon that brought him home.

“I wanted someone like you,” he finally admitted, “I just had no idea at the time that that someone might just be the woman I spent years building up in my mind as the perfect girlfriend, wife and mother. And I also had no idea that she’d actually be just as perfect as I imagined.”

Your lips found Percy’s before your mind caught up, you laid your body against his, needing to feel all of him, the him that loved you so purely, who saw the good in you years before you did. Percy wasted not a single moment, wrapping his arms around your back, caressing your spine and holding you to him. His kisses were languid but filled with passion, creating a sea into which you’d willingly down. Your mind was abuzz with only him until a voice from the stairwell pulled you apart.

“I think Violet’s awake,” Bill said between chuckles before adding, “Worse than teenagers.” With a shake of the head, he walked into the kitchen.

You pulled yourself off your boyfriend, biting at your lower lip in embarrassment.

“Hey, don’t feel bad, love,” Percy said as he moved to sit more upright, “Nothing wrong with loving me.”

You laughed, “I do love you, that’s true.”

“Love you, too, my beautiful goddess,” he called to your back as you made your way upstairs to retrieve your child from her naptime.

After a snack and a change of clothes, Violet was making her way slowly down the stairs to see the baby. She lit up when she saw the tiny bundle in Bill’s lap and nearly tripped trying to get their more quickly. She finally pulled herself onto the couch beside him, snuggling into her uncle’s side to get a better look at the little bundle.

“This is Victoire,” Bill said, pulling at the swaddle a little to reveal that baby’s face better.

“Baby,” Violet cried, a little too loud, causing the baby to stir a little before returning to her rest. You took your seat beside your daughter, pulling her into your lap so she would have a better angle.

“Yes, Vi. She’s just a baby. She is ten days old. You were this little once, too.”

“Me baby?” Violet asked.

“Yes, Violet, you were once a little baby. But you are getting bigger every day and so will Victoire,” you explained, trying your best to parse Violet’s meaning.

She simply continued to stare at the little bundle, listening to Bill continued to talk about the baby, softly. He even let Violet hold her hand, which Violet loved and continued to do for the rest of the little talk.

“And your Aunt Fleur is her mum, just like Y/N is your mum,” Bill continued, ignoring Violet’s expressed “mama” at hearing a word she recognized and knew how to say. “And I’m her dad, like–” Bill cut himself off, unsure how what to say.

“Dada,” Violet said, though the sounds were foreign to her tounge and a little stilted.

“Uncle Bill is Victoire’s dada, good job,” you said, rubbing her back to accompany your praise.

At that, Percy came down the stairs to join you. Before you could greet him, Violet did the work for you.

“Dada!” she screamed at him, reaching her hands out at his form.

Percy stopped dead on the stairs, meeting your eyes. Beside you, you could see Bill tense.

“Dada!” she squealed again, which was again accompanied by silence. After a few seconds, Violet said once more, “Dada?” though this time sad and in question, unsure as to why she was being ignored.

Stirred by her near-tears, Percy moved, picking her up from your arms and reassuring her with rubs to the back.

“Hi, darling. I’m here,” he said, though his eyes were only on you in a silent plea to guide him as to what to do.

You took in Bill holding the baby beside you, still such a new father, unsure of how to hold his child without breaking her, before looking back at Percy, who despite his worried face was a vision of paternal confidence. His arms were strong and supportive around Violet, though his brow was furrowed and behind his glasses you could see a light glassiness on his eyes that you hoped hinted at what you wanted to be true.

Decided, you leaned forward to pat Violet’s back.

“Yes, Vi, dada.”

You saw Percy swallow and nod at you. A small tear rolling down his face and a smile pulling at his mouth before he turned his attention back to Violet. The tears continued to roll down his face as he held the little girl to him, rocking and bouncing as he kissed the crown of her head covered in hair so similar to his own.

“Yes, Violet, dada,” he agreed before planting another kiss on her forehead.

“Dada, dada,” she was squealing again, excited about discovering a new word that she could use instead of the “pwur-see” that was rather difficult on her underdeveloped mouth.

You heard Molly hum from her place in the kitchen with Fleur, a sound that for once actually made you smile.

You knew that night in bed you’d to talk about it, confirm that Percy indeed wanted to be called dad and make sure he wasn’t upset at how you chose to read his expression. You wanted to apologize more than anything for springing this on him. But you didn’t even get the chance.

The moment your head hit the pillow, Percy was on top of you, showering you in love and devotion, peppering in promises to always care for you and Violet, continually praising you as a mother and partner, all the while making such slow, intentional love to your body that you thought you might burst at just how good it all felt.

That was all you needed to know to assure you that Violet would never be second-best, no matter what lied in your and Percy’s future.


	10. October, 2000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy is hiding something

“Hey, Georgie?” you asked, running your hands over the glass bottles of Jinx-off that made up the pyramided display.

“What’s the word?” George called from his place a few rows down restocking a shelf of dungbombs.

You had gotten into the habit of visiting George at his shop at the end of the day. You had just started a new job two months ago, working in the archives at the ministry. It wasn’t your dream job but you were excited about what you were contributing. Years of wizarding history had been lost in the war, destroyed by the death eaters in an effort to seize more control over the Ministry. Your mastery of ancient runes was allowing you to contribute in restoring some of the greatest works of alchemy, arithmancy, and potions studies for generations to come. It wasn’t work as a healer, but it would do for now, and you were definitely learning a ton about the ancient arts of healing magic in the process.

One of the major benefits of your job was getting to see George more frequently. You were still surrounded by family, even if you had to drop Violet off at daycare three days a week. She was loving it, but the mother’s guilt was quite strong, especially given your current mental state.

“If I ask you something, do you promise we can talk about it now and never bring it up again, and that it will just be between us?” you asked, leaning against the counter in hopes of calming your hands which held most of your nervous energy.

George’s head popped up from behind the shelf to stare at you with raised eyebrow.

“Should I be worried?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” was all you could manage, staring at your hands trying hard not to fidget. You heard George move towards you.

“Princess,” he said from his new place right before you, “What’s up?”

You took a breath before speaking. “Do you think Percy could be… cheating on me?” You finally looked up to meet George’s gaze to find his jaw slack and brow knit together.

“Have you lost your mind?” he finally breathed.

“George, I’m being serious!”

George let out a huff before reaching out to grab your hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m listening,” he finally said, bending his knees a little to be eye-level with you.

“Well, when I first started my job, Percy and I would meet for lunch whenever we could. You remember. We’d bring our lunches here a couple days a week and some days we’d find a nice place outside or a quiet corner of the Ministry to enjoy each other’s company for a few minutes. And these past two weeks he’s been cancelling on me, saying he’s busy, which is fine. But yesterday on my way here, I saw him walking down one of the alleys–”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“He was too tall to be you, and Ron’s away doing auror work,” you said.

“You know there are other gingers in the world, not just Weasleys, right?” he asked playfully but your mind was too much of a mess to take the teasing.

“I know what I saw, George,” you said with finality, “And besides, it isn’t just that. He’s been distant at home, like his thoughts are elsewhere. And I feel like he’s hiding something from me. Do you think there could be someone else?”

George let out another long, loud sigh as you finished your story. You watched him bite his lip as he tried to decide what to say.

“No, princess, I’m sure there isn’t anyone else,” he said. You went to protest but he cut you off, “Hear me out. Percy is a stickler for rules. He made a promise to you, that’s basically rule of law for him. He’s not going to break that promise. He’d never cheat. He’d just break up with you.”

You swallowed and nodded. George was right. He was just going to break up with you. You felt tears welling in your eyes as he continued, rubbing your hands as he spoke.

“But he is not breaking up with you, you hear me. He’s absolutely smitten. I don’t know why he’s acting so suspicious, and I will agree with you, he is being suspicious, but he’s so in love with you, princess, just so, so in love with you. Try not to worry.”

“You’re right,” you said after really listening to his words. They eased your heart only slightly but it was enough for now. “I’m worrying for nothing.”

“Let me talk to him. I’ll see what’s up.”

“Thank you,” you said as you wiped the tears from your face, “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

“No need to apologize, love,” he said with a smile and a pat on your shoulder, “Though you may want to use the restroom. Those tears are a look.”

You nodded and made your way up the stairs towards George’s apartment above. You had had a few talks with Percy over the past week and each of his reasons seemed logical enough. But when put together, you could see something was off.

You did your best to clean your face, taking a few moments to stabilize yourself. But when you started to come back downstairs, you saw Percy leaning against the counter and George speaking, his arms waving and his words clearly heated. As you came down the last few steps, you heard only the tail end of what they were saying.

“You’ve got to talk to her, Perce!” George urged.

“Not yet. Please.” Percy said through gritted teeth before turning to see you. It took a moment too long for his mouth to turn into his normal smile at your appearance and the forced nature of it hurt your heart and had you close to tears again.

“Hey, there, darling. Ready to go pick up Pumpkin?” he asked, though his voice was rather breathy like he was nervous for some reason.

You nodded and made your way to the door of the shop, not even bothering to hug either man.

“Bye, George,” you called over your shoulder as you rounded the shelves. Percy ran to catch up to you, holding the door open for you. You walked out without even acknowledging him, but you did catch the glare between the two brothers and the raised shoulders of your boyfriend before he moved to follow you.

When Percy finally caught up to you, you were already halfway down the block towards Violet’s daycare , one run by the ministry for ministry employees, just of Horizont Alley by the barber shop. The daycare was small but run by some of the world’s foremost experts in young magical development, especially important now that Violet’s magic was starting to show in little but problematic ways. And while admission was selective, mostly just for higher ups and heads of departments, something of which you didn’t qualify, no one really questioned Percy when he made the special request.

Once beside you, Percy reached down to interlock your hands, just like he always did when he had you by his side. But when you didn’t bend your fingers in turn to grab him with just as much enthusiasm, he stopped walking, pulling you to a stop as well. You shuffled to the side in an effort to avoid being the cause of a jam in foot traffic.

“Is something wrong, darling?” he asked as he rubbed your palm. You did your best to avoid his gaze, hoping he couldn’t see the unshed tears.

“Are we okay? Truly, Percy?” you asked, staring intently at the ground and holding your breath once you finished. You saw Percy’s feet move closer to you and felt his hand come to run along your jaw, lifting your face to him.

“We’re golden,” he said with all the sweetness you’d come to love from him once your eyes made contact with his face. When he saw the wetness there, he continued, “Unless you don’t think we are?”

As horrible a location as Diagon Alley was to have this conversation, you knew it wasn’t best to keep secrets from Percy. Open communication was the cornerstone of your relationship. You’d be dooming it yourself if you kept this bottled up.

“I’m worried,” you admitted, “About us.”

Percy’s hand continued to caress your jaw, soft and smooth against your skin like velvet. His eyes were intent on your features, moving all over your face but always returning to your eyes. He didn’t seem nervous, just worried, the way his lips parted ever so slightly and his shoulders slumped as he waited for you to speak more.

“You’ve just been cancelling plans and I’m worried you are keeping something from me, is all.”

“I’ve been neglecting you?”

You just nodded, sucking up the running that had started in your nose.

Percy sighed and moved his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you forward until you were flush against his chest. He sighed again into your hair as his palm moved upward, finding the top of your head and stroking there. A kiss and a stroke he repeated as he tried his best to calm you without words.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. And a little distant,” he whispered, “Let me take you out this weekend, focus just on us, okay? I have quite a few good things in mind. Now let’s go pick up Pumpkin and we can talk later?”

You nodded once more, though you didn’t actually feel much better. An apology was one thing. An explanation was something completely different. But you figured you could wait until the weekend. So you took his hand, interlocking your fingers, and continued walking.

“Okay, sweet pea, you are going to be good for grandma, right?” Percy said, leaning down to be at eye level with Violet.

“Nana pway!” Violet squealed as she jumped a few times into Percy’s arms.

“Nana will definitely play with you, but you’ve got to be good, okay?” Percy said, kissing her head as he sat her down. “Say bye to your mom?”

Violet bonded forward, throwing herself at your legs but you caught her and lifted her into your arms. Immediately, Violet’s hands were on your face, ready to lean forward and kiss you.

“Kiss,” she said, planting her wet lips against your check.

“Mama loves you, baby girl,” you said as you ran your hands through her auburn locks.

Molly had just rounded the corner in the kitchen, having pulled out ingredients for the cookies Violet was going to ‘help’ her make, which really meant Violet was going to sit in her highchair beside the counter dipping her fingers in the containers of sugar.

“Thank you, mum,” Percy said as he ran forward to help her carry the containers of flour and eggs she held. Once the supplies were set down, he leaned forward to give her a kiss, though you noticed an exchange of whispers that you couldn’t hear. You saw Molly reach up to pat his chest before her turned back to you.

“Time to go,” Percy said to your daughter who was currently running her fingers down your neck, causing you to squirm. He expertly lifted her out of your arms and placed her in her high chair across from her grandmother.

“Nana! Nana!” she called, completely forgetting that you were leaving.

“Bye, Violet!” you screamed into the kitchen as Percy took your hand and led you outside, but she was too enamored with the floating cups and bowls to pay much attention.

Once outside, Percy continued to lead you into the garden, letting go of our hands only when you were securely on the cobblestone, surrounded by the fall harvest. His hands came up to your elbows as he bent down to look in your eyes.

“I’m sorry again for the past few weeks,” he said, caressing your elbows with his fingers.

You felt a smile pulling at your lips despite yourself. Percy had been so attentive after your initial talk, you knew your mind had just been playing tricks on you. But you still wanted to understand.

“It’s okay, as long as you intend to give me some answers.”

“I do,” Percy said, his smile growing so wide, like he was so incredibly pleased with himself for whatever was coming. “But first, I’d like a kiss from my beautiful girlfriend. Start our date day off right.”

You tried to step closer into his grasp but he wouldn’t let you. His hands swiftly moved down to your waist, picking you up in his arms, always surprising you with how much stronger he was than he’d appear. He held you to his chest and had you twirling before his lips found yours, a beautiful and passionate kiss that had your head dizzy.

When you opened your eyes again, you were no longer in the Weasley garden, but instead in a lovely fenced-in courtyard covered in well manicured grass and with trees lining the corners. In all directions around you were rows of pristine little townhouses, each with a different colored door and decorated stoop.

“Where are we?” you asked Percy who was still holding you with delicate fingers by the waist, clearly proud of himself for apparating you so smoothly.

“Wimbourne,” Percy said his smile growing ever larger, “Today’s first stop.”

Now you weren’t even frustrated, just confused.

“What is there to do in Wimbourne?”

“Well, my love,” Percy said as he took your hand to begin walking you out onto the sidewalk. “Follow me.”

As you made your way down the dirt path that cut the green in half, you were able to take in your surroundings more properly. A playground sat at the edge of the small town square. Couples and family sat in the grass, picnicking with sandwiches, fruit, and pumpkin pasties in packages that made it clear you were among wizards.

Once you made your way to the sidewalk, Percy took you down the high street where shops spilled out onto the sidewalk, mostly muggle businesses with some clear magical influences. For a Saturday, the street was moderately busy though not overwhelming. People were having lunch at small outdoor tables. A few clothing stores were busy with sales. But generally the street was an image of leisure. You suspected the busy cafe on the corner would lead you to a proper wizarding shopping district which you hoped was just as peaceful.

As the businesses feathered out, Percy turned you down another road, one with a few detached homes that ended in a lovely cul de sac. He stopped his walking beside a cottage that you simply adored, inviting and warm and not too large, with a garden out front that just begged to be played in, the perfect place for a growing family.

Percy took both your hands in his when he spoke, “So, darling,” he took a steadying breath, “I’ve decided I’m buying a home. That’s what I’ve been doing with all this overtime, securing things with the bank and setting up appointments.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck, clearly unsure if you might still be upset. When he saw your face soften, he continued. “And I want you and Violet to move in with me.”

Percy waited patiently for your reaction, holding your hands in a loose grip.

“And this is your new home?” you asked, your brain a few steps behind your boyfriend.

“Not yet. We have a few to tour today. I wanted your insight before I made a decision. I mean,” Percy began to blush rather intensely at the next words, “I would like to think of it as our home.”

Your heart was soaring. You felt so ridiculously silly for suspecting him of any lack of care. Percy was doing everything to make you happy, to make you and Violet feel cared for and welcomed in his life.

His hand came up to caress your face, waiting for your response.

“Yes.”

Percy’s lips immediately found yours, hard and forceful in his need to feel you against him. You tried your best to respond by tossing an arm around his neck, but your brain was still thinking, forcing you to pull away and ask more questions.

“How much should I–”

“I am buying a home regardless of whether or not you agree to move in. I’m ready to be settled. So as far as down payments and all of that, I won’t take anything from you. I won’t even hear it. But if it will make you feel better, we can split all of the utilities and expenses moving forward.”

You nodded in agreement before taking his hand and leading him up the garden path that led into the cottage.

The day was filled with tours and Percy’s continuous affection. The cottage in Wimbourne was cute but a little small. The townhome in Godric’s Hollow was lovely and quaint, but was quite old and would require a bit more maintenance than was really feasible with a toddler. The Tinworth home was only a few miles from Bill and Fleur and had lovely views of the coast but was quite a bit away from the town itself and wasn’t the best for walking. The final stop, the one in Ottery St. Catchpole proper, just a twenty minute walk from Percy’s parents, was everything you wanted.

When you walked inside the tudor style home, you were immediately overwhelmed by the vaulted ceilings and the exposed beams of the family room. A gorgeous stone fireplace that sat center with built-in bookshelves on their side, a rich dark wood and rather spacious. The floors were wood as well and clearly well-maintained. The kitchen was large enough for all your needs. The gardens in the back at the perfect mix of open space and landscaping, room for Violet to run and play and never be bored. And the giant patio meant you could host the entire family when weather allowed.

That was the most notable part of this day. Everything was a subtle walk around what you wanted for the future together. Talk of bedrooms for future children, hosting holidays, an office for Percy to work from home, proximity to a town for shopping trips and date nights. Everything was a careful dance, saying you wanted to be together for the long haul, to marry and continue to grow your lives together, without ever actually making any official declarations. You really were on cloud nine as Percy was essentially committing to at least the next ten years with you by his side, even if you hadn’t exchanged vows.

“So?” Percy said to you as you finished spinning in the middle of the third bedroom, “Is this the one?”

“Do you want it to be?” you responded as you walked together out of the room.

“Seeing you this happy makes me fairly certain this is the right decision,” Percy said once you got to the bottom of the stairs. Looking out over the large family space made you gasp once again and Percy chuckle.

“So we’ll make an offer?”

“I’ll call the agent in the morning,” Percy confirmed. 

You leapt into his arms, wrapping yourself around his neck and pressing your chest hard against him. He held you tight, spinning you with him and kissing him with as much passion at he had left to give, overwhelming and consuming and just so right.

He pulled away after a moment. “I love you,” he whispered soft against your lips. You arched your back to get a better look at his face, but when you did, your chest pushed painfully against something hard and jagged in the breast pocket of his coat.

“Ouch,” you cried as you dropped down from his embrace.

When you looked up at Percy again, he was biting his lip and his cheeks were painfully red, almost enough to wash away the freckles on his face.

“What was that?” you asked, feeling the tension that grew so quickly between the two of you.

“Not exactly how I wanted to do this,” Percy breathed to himself, though you were able to hear. He unbuttoned his coat, revealing his pocket to you. “Go on. Take it.”

You moved forward slowly, still unsure as to why he’d turned so nervous as your question. But when you reached in, you felt the small velvet box and knew. This was the secret Percy had been keeping from you. You turned your eyes upward to see Percy watching you intently, his face soft but unsure.

At seeing your paused hand and your gaping mouth, he said, “Only if you want it.”

Immediately, you knew you had no doubts. You continued your movement, pulling out the box as Percy dropped down to his knee. He grabbed your hands once again, opening the box for you as you held it gently in your palms. Inside you saw a band of silver with a beautiful teardrop diamond, simple and elegant just like the man who picked it.

“I wanted to wait until it felt right, but I guess it will always feel right as long as the woman is you,” Percy said as the pads of his thumbs drew circles on your palms.

You felt the tears building in your eyes already, at the ring, at the man, at the home, at everything in your life somehow coming together in a wonderful collection of uniquely perfect things. Your felt an ache in your chest, a desire beyond words to speed things along, to be his wife knowing now that that was the position in which he wanted you.

“I’ll save you the long, emotional speech. You know I am no good at those.” At that, you chuckled. “But I will tell you this. I love you. You are the most kind, honest, beautiful soul I have ever had the privilege of knowing. You make me want to be a better man each and every day. And I’m trying to be worthy of your love. And I want to keep trying for the rest of my life. So, Y/N, my love, please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

The last time this happened, a man kneeling before you holding a ring, you were unable to say the words, too overwhelmed and honestly uncertain. But now you had the words.

For the second time that day, you said yes.

That night, your passion was continuous and all-consuming. Heated skin and pleasant sighs and ardent release. Hours of simply being wrapped in one another excited and spent simultaneously.

At the end of your third round of lovemaking, Percy was hovering over you as he waited for your legs to stop quaking.

“Is my fiance fully sated?” he asked with a cheeky grin before kissing your nose.

“Say it again,” you sighed as you closed your eyes, hoping to focus on his words instead of his body for the first time in a couple hours.

“Say what?”

“You know what,” you said, peaking out at him through one eye as you watched him try not to chuckle.

“My fiance,” he said finally as he rolled you on your side, spooning you properly.

You hummed your approval as you found your comfortable place in his embrace. You reached for his hand, pulling him snugly against your back. You felt his finger move to trace over your ring, a new pleasant feature of your hand. It fit perfectly, like it was made for you, which, knowing Percy, it was.

“My fiance,” he called again, this time as a whisper against your ear.

“Oh,” you offered in mock seduction, wiggling your back side against him as you did so.

“You like that? Me calling you fiance after we’ve made love? Just wait until I get to call you wife while I’m deep inside you.”

“Percy!” you squealed, turning your head to see him. You were trying your best to hide the pleasant smirk that wanted so badly to make an appearance on your face.

“What? Come on, look at your face, you know I’m right. You love it.”

“I do love it because I love you,” you said, reaching back to grab his neck and pull his face to yours once more. Your kiss was lovely and soft but when Percy felt your tongue against his lips, he pulled away.

“Insatiable,” he said with a shake of his head and a hearty chuckle.

You had already pushed him back onto his back and were climbing once more to straddle his hips. “Only for you.”


	11. September, 2001

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wedding!

A giant leap onto the bed stirred you from your slumber. You were so comfortable under the warm blankets, the feel of Percy’s body right beside you only adding to the immeasurable bliss of the cocoon you had made for yourself. You nuzzled deeper into the pillow as the first rays of sunlight broke through the curtains. As you opened a single eyelid, you could see out into the garden, the colors of the hydrangeas all the more brilliant as the dew reflected the pale yellow of the morning. You felt the bounce of the mattress again and heard the beautiful falsetto that denoted your daughter’s voice. The chime of each syllable made you smile until they came together to form a thought, one that made your heart stop.

“Dada, dada, wedding day!” she squealed as she stood at the bottom of the bed before clumsily launching herself onto Percy’s chest. He spit out air at the impact, turning away from you to nuzzle Violet.

“Yes, little one, Mommy and Daddy are getting married today. And you get to put on a pretty dress and –”

Percy was cut off by your yelp as you jumped off the mattress, pulling with you the pillow to hide your face. You were standing by the nightstand before you could process everything. It took you a little too long to confirm that you had indeed put back on your sleep clothes last night, your passionate exchange with Percy having been long and heated with clothes quickly discarded the instant Violet was sleeping. Percy was rather enthusiastic given that it was your last night of “living in sin” as he put it.

“Percy!” you screamed from behind the pillow, “I wasn’t supposed to sleep here last night. You can’t see me!”

Percy sighed as he placed your daughter down among the blankets you had just abandoned.

“Darling, you know that’s just an old wives’ tale, right? There’s no rule that says I can’t look upon my bride in the morning.”

Violet was babbling to herself as she curled around in your blankets. But you did manage to catch the tail end of her words.

“…Mama pretty.”

“See, Violet gets it!” Percy cheered as he stood and walked towards you. He extracted the pillow from your hands and pulled it down, tossing it at Violet’s feet. While he did indeed reveal your face, you still averted your gaze.

“Now, I love traditions more than most men, you know that, but please give me this gift. Let me see you now before I have to wait so long to see you again as you walk down the aisle?”

You chuckled, “You’ll only be without me a few hours.”

“On a Saturday!” Percy spat, “Simply torture.”

You were smiling now, wide and true, at his words. With a nod, you turned your gaze upward to meet his. And once you did, you realized you needed this too, to see the soft eyes and flushed cheeks of the man who would be your husband.

“Beautiful,” he whispered before leaning forward and kissing you so sweetly. As he pulled away, he breathed beside your ear, “And for the record, you made it very clear you had no desire to leave our bed last night.” He let his hot breath blow against your lobe for just a moment before pulling away, leaving you completely tempted and all too bothered for this morning.

Percy turned from you to address the tiny tot who had somehow made a complete crumpled mess of your sheets in the mere moments she was left alone with them.

“Okay, sweet pea. You and your mum have to go to your grandparents now.”

Violet crawled up to standing and grabbed her dad around the waist. “Dada come, please,” she muttered against his stomach.

“You’ll see me soon,” he promised with a kiss to her head.

As they said their goodbyes, you left the room to go collect things you needed for a day away from home. All the essentials for the wedding were already in your old room at the Burrow, but Violet would need things to keep her entertained.

You rounded the corner of the kitchen carrying Violet’s bag and sippy cup when a crack at the fireplace made you jump.

“Still in her pajamas. Hair’s a mess. Well, Charles, I believe you owe me some sickles.”

You turned to see George and Charlie standing in your living room. A third crack of green light brought Bill into your presence and a final flash revealed Ron in the fireplace.

“I never thought of Percy as one to break tradition,” Bill said at the sight of you.

“When that’s what he’s waking up to, I can see why he would,” George said, mostly under his breath but loud enough for you to hear.

Ron’s hand came around and smacked him right in the chest. “That’s your sister-in-law, mate.”

“Correction, will be my sister-in-law. I’ve got six more hours of teasing,” he said before taking quick strides towards you. “Princess, good morning,” he said as he leaned forward to kiss you on the cheek.

“What are you doing here so early?” you finally managed to ask, holding Violet’s backpack to your chest to hide any potentially visible parts of your anatomy giving the nature of your sleepwear.

“We’re here to get our brother ready for his big day,” Charlie said with a smile as he moved forward to hug you.

“Though I wonder if you might have already done some of the work for us,” George muttered as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“George Fabian Weasley,” Bill scolded in the best impression of Molly you may have ever heard.

“Okay! Okay, I’m done!” George said. He raised his arms in defeat as he began to move up the stairs. “Though I will make sure Percy’s decent before any of you lot come up here.”

Charlie laughed as George fled in the sprint to avoid even more scolding.

“He’s with our daughter, you knitwit,” you screamed, following it with a huff as you moved forward to hug Bill and Ron respectively.

You followed all the boys upstairs. When you entered your bedroom, George was engaged in a rather serious pillow fight with Violet, each having built barracks of sorts on either side of the mattress. Violet thought herself incredibly sneaky for burrowing under the blankets only to reappear on George’s end. George did his best at playing dumb to her movements.

You left the boys to do their part, kissing Percy on the cheek as he finished brushing his teeth. With a look once more at those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes, ones you couldn’t wait to look into every single morning for the rest of your natural life, you grabbed your daughter and made your way to the Burrow.

“Oh, Y/N, you look gorgeous!” Ginny squealed as she entered your old bedroom. Molly was placing the comb of the thin lace veil into your hair, securing it into place so it flowed properly down your back.

You looked up to see your soon to be sister in her soft cornflower dress, a perfect complement to her flowing locks and delicate freckles. She held the door open from Angelina, in a matching blue gown though longer and more fitted against her frame. Upon seeing you, she simply pulled both her hands up to her mouth to cover the screech that escaped her lips.

You smiled at the pair of them, excited to have them by your side, but also feeling the butterflies in your stomach beginning to build. It wasn’t that you were nervous about marrying Percy. Honestly, you’d spent the past year living like a married couple and loving every minute of it. You had not a single doubt about him. It was more the logistics of everything and anticipation to just get on with it, to be Mrs. Weasley once and for all, to call Percy husband and father to your child, to make everything permanent.

You let out a shaky breath as you looked at your reflection. You were still you, but a more perfect version of yourself, one you truly felt looked like she deserved all the love and goodness surrounding her.

“For a complete ass, Percy’s done well for himself,” Angelina teased.

You whipped your head around to see the two women giggling.

“Kidding, kidding!” Angie defended, “Residual anger from all those house points he took.”

Molly swatted at your arm, knocking you back to forward. She was still in the middle of the finishing touches on your hair and did not take kindly to your swift movements.

“Sorry,” you whispered to Molly.

“Almost done,” Molly said in response, pushing the last pin in place. “There. You look lovely, daughter.”

As she said that last word, your chest tightened. It was a word she once used for you so frequently. A word she quit using when you had specifically requested she didn’t during your pregnancy because it just hurt too much to think about Fred, to think about a version of life that would never be.

But you were wrong. You were marrying a man you loved beyond words. You were joining a family you loved almost as much as a collective as you did each of the individual pieces. And you and your daughter would finally share a last name.

Molly rubbed at your arms, seeing the water in your eyes and knowing what she had caused it. She offered you a smile, meeting your eyes once more and doubling down.

“Daughter,” she said, the lump in her throat clear as she stumbled over the final syllable. Immediately you leaned forward, tumbling into her arms, finding comfort in her warm embrace, a place of safety for you since you left your family and your own mother seven years ago, never to see or hear from those wretched death eaters ever again.

You felt a second set of arms fling themselves around your shoulders and strands of red hair obscure your vision. After moment, a chin too was resting atop your head and the warm scent of nutmeg that somehow always seemed to be surrounding Angelina filled your nostrils. You felt the stress begin to wash away and giggles overcome you.

You vaguely registered the knock at the door.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ron said from the threshold, Hermione craning her head behind him to get a look at you, “People are seated. We’re ready whenever you are.”

“How precious” Hermione called as she pushed passed Ron to get into the room herself. Her blue dress appeared to be ruffled at the edges from wear. You had asked Hermione to oversee seating while you got ready and it seems she had pulled Ron along too for the busy task.

With a huff and an eye roll, Ginny said, “Get in here.”

Hermione smiled at the invite and added her arms to the fold around Molly.

Ron took a moment to assess the situation before shutting the door behind him.

After a few long moments and a couple tears at just how full your heart was, something three years ago you wouldn’t have believed possible, you finally pulled away.

“Guess it is time to get this show on the road?” you asked as you wiped the stains from your face. Molly shrieked as you did so, pulling your hands away so she could fix the make-up you smeared.

Angelina offered you her hand to help you stand, Ginny straightened out your train. And with a smile at the others, you began your trek downstairs.

“Oh!” Violet cooed when she saw you, jumping up from her space in Bill’s lap to dash towards you. Violet was already babbling up a storm, her basket of flower petals flinging wildly in her arms, littering the floor around her in various colors of roses. She was leaping into your arms before you could even fully bend down to grab her.

“Hi, little one. You look lovely,” you said to her as you straightened out her tiny white dress, in many ways so similar to her own. The braid in her hair highlighted all the different shades of red within, the blond and auburn and strawberry like a painter’s palette upon her head. She was the true embodiment of the beautiful things love could produce, a cherub to shine upon today.

Bill kissed his wife and took Victoire with him as he made his way outside to join the rest of the brothers. Fleur’s blue dress was custom as her belly was beginning to protrude once more, a second little Weasley due in only a few short months. With graceful steps that somehow made you angry at how much her beauty still managed to outshine you even now, Fleur offered you a kiss on the cheek.

“Your Percy is very handsome today,” she cooed, “And very excited to be marrying you.”

You smiled at your sister-in-law and looked down at her belly with mild jealousy. She was already giving all of her attention to your daughter, who was giggling at the silly faces her aunt was making at her.

“Ready?” Molly asked, opening the door for you to move outside.

You nodded and set Violet down so she could run ahead with her grandmother.

As the crisp air hit your face, the smell of the flowers and grass filling your nose so nicely, you felt the butterflies in your stomach morph from nervous to exuberant. Percy was just beyond, down the cobblestone and among the flowers, waiting with open arms to call you his bride.

The idea of him once again among the bushes and paths that made up the grounds of his family garden had you warm with sentimentality. You had discussed a much bigger wedding, something grand and lavish with invitations extended to most of the ministry, but had ultimately decided against it. You wanted to put your money into your home and into your honeymoon. With Violet, you hadn’t vacationed for more than a day. But Percy was determined to make the most of the time you would have together as newlyweds. Ten days all planned by him.

Besides, this garden was the source of so much good. It was the place where your heart first opened up to him, where he spent the day entertaining you while Violet was still in your stomach and took your hands in his own, the first spark you had felt since you lost the only man you thought your heart ever capable of loving. It was here that he kissed you for the first time and asked if you would want to see what might be between you. It was in his garden that he kissed you many more times after, promised to love you and cherish you, taught your daughter to walk and run and play. It was in this garden that you found a new start. It was in this garden that you fell in love.

You had been so lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice the music or the procession of your friends begin. It was only when you felt Angelina let go of your hand that you realized that only you and Violet stood beyond the trees, waiting to enter.

“Go on, Violet. Head to dada. And remember, walk slow and toss the flowers.”

She kissed your cheek before skipping off down the way. You heard a few gasps and cooes at her appearance. You wished you could see Percy’s face as she made her way to him.

Arthur, who had been looking out on the small crowd, came to your side and offered you his arm. He helped you step forward, just close enough so you could see Percy bend down to catch his little girl in his arms. Violet grabbed his cheeks and gave him a kiss like the kind you see them exchange every morning, full of love and affection. If you hadn’t already been head over heels for the man, this would have done it. At the directions of Percy, Violet moved forward to find a seat in Molly’s lap.

You watched him straighten up and swallow. He held his hands in front of him, poised and perfect in posture. But you knew him better. You saw the tension in his jaw and the way his foot turned inward. He was already trying not to cry.

“He’s waiting for you,” Arthur whispered. He saw the tears already forming in your eyes and took the opportunity to lead you forward.

Once you stood at the end of the aisle, you made eye contact with Percy. Immediately his mouth opened and his lip quivered. This eyes ran the length of your body and up again. You watched him mouth, “I love you.” Bill placed a hand on his shoulder, parenthood having made the two brothers almost inseparable.

You began your steps forward, vaguely registering the sounds of friends in the chairs lining the path. The only thing your mind could process was Percy, the handsome, caring, thoughtful man you loved. The man you loved for all his flaws, for how diligent he was about brushing his teeth and how specific he was with how he liked his coffee. How you had to ask him things multiple times because he was so lost in what he was reading, how he started a few too many sentences with “actually,” and how he sometimes stole the blankets just to push them off in the middle of the night anyway. The man you loved for the way he was always so gentle and patient with your daughter but so direct and strong willed in the workplace. The man you loved for how he prioritized you above all else, above himself and his own needs time and time again. The man you loved. No explanation needed.

When you finally stood before him, his hands came up to rub gently at your jaw as he took in your face. The tear stains on his cheeks somehow made you smile. He felt the power of this too, the power of your union.

“Thank you, father,” he said as he took your hand in his own.

Arthur gave you a kiss on the cheek before sitting next to his wife, taking your daughter in his lap. She was trying rather hard to come join her parents under the trellis.

“I don’t deserve you,” Percy whispered as he kissed your fingertips, refusing to lighten his grip on your hands as though you might flee.

“Nor I you,” you laughed between tears.

“My beautiful girl. So, so beautiful,” he continued to whisper even as Kingsley began the ceremony.

You kept your eyes on your fiance as long as possible, only turning to look at the crowd as necessary. You wanted to lose yourself in his brilliant blue eyes but you had to keep reminding yourself that you had your whole life to do just that.

The vows were a blur. The readings were a blur. Everything was so quick, you thought you might have imagined the entire thing. The only moment you registered was Percy sliding the delicate band of silver upon your finger, placing your engagement ring overtop to secure it in place. He kissed the knuckle of your hand once complete and while the new metal didn’t add much weight on top of the diamond he had gifted you a year ago, your hand felt the difference. Your hand was complete, marked as it should be.

And you certainly registered the kiss, slow and precise and all too short for the amount of love you felt. His lips were wonderfully soft upon yours, like a plush blanket on a snowy winter morning. As he pulled away, the clapping of friends and family filling your ears, you whispered gently against his mouth, “I love you.”

He only smiled wide at your words. He took your hand and began to lead you forward, down the cobblestone your feet had come to know so well, especially when guided by the patient hands of your husband.

Once you were safely out of view of the garden, Percy’s demeanor completely changed. The man who had been walking you with the most measured steps and holding your hand in a loose grip disappeared and was replaced with a man who was sprinting and gripping your fingers so tightly as he pulled you behind him. Your skirt trailed along, knocking up dirt and pebbles as you went and forming a cloud of dust in your wake, but you did not care. The thrill of it all had you laughing, though you knew all the hard work Molly had put into your hair was probably destroyed.

Percy threw open the door to his family home and continued his fast pace up the stairs and to the hallway outside his childhood bedroom. He stopped so suddenly you nearly collided with him. You had hardly regained your footing before he had you up in his arms, carrying you into the room the way a bride should be.

He set you down in the middle of the room before swiftly turning and locking the door behind him.

“We’re married,” you said more to yourself than anything, just wanting to put the words into space to confirm their reality.

Percy met your eyes and what you expected to see, a bright smile and a pleasant blush, wasn’t there. Nothing light, only hunger.

It took him three steps before he crashed into you, hard and needy. His hands found the sides of your face, slack in their hold on your cheeks in contrast to the way his lips pressed firm against yours, showering you in wet, heated kisses. He continued his large steps, leading you backwards until your shoulder blades were pushed against the wall. The window beside your head looked down onto the garden and you thought you could see your daughter upon George’s shoulders, decorating his hair with her remaining petals.

“Percy,” you whispered as he gave you room for air. His lips were now persistently sucking upon your pulse, strong enough to make you squirm but light enough to not do real damage. Like lighting a match, you felt your body erupt with need for him. Your skin shivered under his lips, spreading down your back and chest until you shook with want. Your hands ran the length of his back and up again, pulling him into the space between your legs, your body instinctively falling open for him. You finally rested your fists in his hair, pressing his mouth to your flesh as his teeth did that thing that always made you moan.

“Y/N,” Percy echoed, his voice muted by the sigh you released at the feel of hips pushing urgently against your own.

His lips continued their pace downward, so frantic and searing you found yourself short of breath. He managed to find your nipple through the fabric of your bodice as though he knew exactly where to look, though you guessed after all this time he probably did have an intrinsic sense of your body.

The attention had your back arching hard off the wall. You threw your head to the side and saw the entire party of guests down below moving to the tables set up in the orchard. You bit your lip nervously.

“We have,” you breathed, practically panting now as Percy managed to reach the skin of your cleavage, dress be damned, “maybe five minutes.”

“Better make the most of it then,” he urged, a look of mischief in his eyes unlike any you had seen before. He grabbed at the fabric of your skirt, bunching up what bit he could and tossing it upward into the space between you.

Catching on, you reached down and began to undo his belt, feeling like even a second longer apart from him would be too much to bear.

“How in the name of Merlin do you get under these things?” Percy hissed as he continued to try and fight his way around the layers of fabric that made up your skirt and train. His desperation had you giggling.

“Fuck it,” he finally breathed before dropping down on his knees. His pants were completely unbuckled thanks to your handiwork and hanging awkwardly over his thighs. He ducked under your skirts, immediately nipping at the flesh of your knee, making you squeak. His mouth moved up your leg, higher and higher until you fell against the wall in defeat, surrendering to the pleasure Percy had decided to give.

Just as his lips ghosted over your apex, Percy’s head popped once more dramatically out from under your skirts. He waited until you blinked your eyes opened and looked down upon him.

“I love you, wife,” he said with a giant smile before diving once more under the yards of fabric.

You laughed at his playfulness. “I love you, too, husband,” you meant the say, but the last syllable was swallowed by the moan that hung upon your lips at the delicious and overwhelming pleasure of your husband’s mouth between your thighs.

Percy was completely useless at fixing your hair before you rejoined the party of friends assembling in the yard below. You could tell by the plump of your lips, the way your veil sat lopsided on your head, and the smug grin plastered on Percy’s face that anyone paying attention would know exactly what you two had been doing with the few precious minutes you had alone. But honestly, you didn’t really care. Part of you was kind of proud of the passion with which this man wanted you and you wanted him in turn.

Percy led you down the stairs with his hand firmly clasping your own and out into the yard. Friends and family applauded at your arrival, though George was cackling, clearly at your appearance. Angie shushed him with a dramatic grab of his arm before running forward to adjust your veil.

You whispered a thank you to Angie as she moved away to give you room to greet your guests.

Violet was bounding as best she could across the lawn and swiftly came into Percy’s arms. He held her tight to his hips as people moved forward to offer you congratulations, a perfect image of the family you always wanted. Violet loved the attention and made a point of saying “hi,” as best she could, the syllable becoming less and less coherent as she grew bored. Watching your husband and your child together was like a dream, the most beautiful dream you ever had, yet somehow it was your reality.

Hours passed. Dancing. Food. Laughter and company. As you sat together with Violet in your lap as Percy fed you bites of your cake, you looked out upon the community you created together. The sun was fully set and lights floated illuminating the tent you had set up in the orchard. Couples spun together upon the dance floor. You took particular note of how low George’s hand sat on Angie’s waist as he pressed his lips to her earlobe, making her giggle. You always suspected something would happen someday between them and if your wedding could be catalyst, you were endlessly grateful. In a corner sat a table of Ministry employees deep in debate about such and such policy or another, somehow still finding laughter in it. Charlie was assisting Arthur in setting up fireworks to light up the sky, more for their amusement than yours. And Molly was wandering around the small groups with Victoire in her arms, offering everyone dessert.

“Happy?” Percy asked.

“Perfectly so,” you confirmed, leaning over to kiss Percy. Violet squealed at the gesture, forcing Percy to lean down and kiss her as well. When he pulled up again, you bopped his nose, leaving a glob of icing upon it that made you giggle. Instead of pulling away, he sprung forward, determined to nuzzle you in the neck and coat you with the sugar. You squealed and Violet caught in between burst into a fit of giggles. Percy got his way though and soon your chin was smeared with white cream.

You grabbed a napkin to clean yourself off, but Percy stopped you with a hand. He stood from his chair to stand behind you, leaning down to kiss you jaw, lapping up the icing along the way. You felt a chill pass over your body so acutely, the energy of the night and the man beside you enough to have you needy already.

“Violet, go tell your grandpa that mommy and daddy are leaving,” you said, feeling Percy smirk against you neck at your words.

“No. Mommy no go,” she pouted.

“We’ll see you in the morning before we leave for our trip. Plus you get to have a wonderful sleepover with your uncles,” you reassured her, lifting her off your lap and putting her on the floor. She looked to you once more and with a nod she ran off towards Arthur and Charlie.

Percy immediately pulled you into his arms, kissing you once more on the mouth, full and sweeping.

He took your hand and began to lead out of the tent, back towards the garden. Once he pulled you with him onto the cobblestone, he turned you back towards your lit tent where the sounds of laughter and music continued on.

“Shouldn’t we say goodbye?” you asked.

Percy’s arms came around your waist, pulling your back flush with him. He held his lips upon your head as he spoke.

“They won’t even know we’ve gone.”

“I love you,” you whispered as you began to cry of gratitude, taking in all the goodness you had managed to have in your life, all laid out before you so perfectly, a shining beacon from among the darkness.

Just as you went to close your eyes, to fall into Percy’s embrace even more, you heard a pop. You looked out and saw the start of fireworks filling the sky with brilliant blues, yellows, and pinks, each more vibrant and breathtaking as the last. You thought you heard the giggles of your daughter in the distance just as Percy apparated you home.

You gasped for air as Percy continued his rhythmic thrusts inside you, strong and passionate. He held your hands securely above your head as his breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine. You were completely lost in him, every bit of your being laser-focused on the feel of everything: his skin, his breath, his touch, his movements. You did your best to try and move your hips in time with his, eager to show the depth of your enthusiasm for him, but it was useless. You were slowly becoming just a puddle of flesh, wholly subservient to the desires of his body.

A few lazy rolls of your hips let him know that you intended to melt into your mattress, though as long as you kept kissing him and nipping at his shoulder the way you were, he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Tell me,” Percy grunted against your ear as he slowed his pace, allowing his strokes to elongate as he felt your legs start to quiver. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Percy Ignatius Weasley. All yours,” you breathed as you squeezed at his hand.

“All mine,” he echoed as he started up again, pushing you hard into the headboard, “And I’m all yours, too, my beautiful, beautiful bride.”

You felt your body tightening around him, forcing you to grip his hands even more as you prepared to fall off the edge.

“Forever,” you managed to say before you completely tumbled.

A few more thrusts and Percy was right there with you, completely consumed by his high that he could only ever achieve from partaking of you and you alone.

As he caught his breath, his body going limp around you, he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Forever.”


	12. August, 2002

The instant Percy touched down in the fields of the Burrow, Violet sprinted towards the house, her hair a loose nest of curls behind her.

“Be careful, Violet!” Percy screamed at her retreating back. He had failed to catch her when she launched herself off his broom before he had even dismounted. He sighed as she continued to run, completely ignoring her father’s commands in an effort to get to her grandparents.

“That girl is going to turn me grey before thirty, you know that.”

“Don’t worry,” you offered as your feet hit the soft dirt, “You’ll certainly go bald long before you go grey.” You did your best to try and hide the smirk as Percy’s gaze bore into you in both challenge and amusement.

After a moment of intense staring, your laughter broke through your lips. Your shoulders hunched and you bent forward to hold your stomach, throwing you off balance. Percy watched you wobble a bit as you tried to gain solid footing and quickly his arms found your waist, holding you steady.

“You okay?” he asked.

You laughed, “Haven’t flown in quite a long time.”

Percy kissed the top of your forehead before pulling you to his chest. You felt his lungs expand and contract with his breathing, allowing the movement to ground you. You watched the smoke come up through the chimney, a sign that Molly was already deep into cooking tonight’s meal, a celebratory dinner in honor of Percy’s birthday and his latest success in resolidifying ties with MACUSA.

With a swipe of his hands up your sides, as though warming you despite the sweltering weather, he took your hand and began leading you towards the house. As the grass thinned, the ground grew bumpy. A single stutter step from you was all it took before Percy picked you up into his arms.

“Percy!” you squealed, burying your head in his shoulder as his steps bounced your body.

He paused his walking to pepper your neck with kisses, increasing your laughter with each.

“Mommy!” Violet whined from the doorway to the kitchen. Molly appeared behind your daughter and placed her hands on Violet’s shoulder, watching intently as her son smothered you in affection, a smile playing on her lips. Her eyes were soft, like she was remembering a time in her own life. Percy did look so much like a young Arthur these days.

At the scolding of your daughter, Percy set you back on your feet as you made your way into the home.

“Now what were you saying, Violet?” Molly was asking from the counter as she shucked corn. Upon your entry, she pushed forward a pile of clean cobs from which Percy immediately started to cut away the kernels. You helped Violet as she struggled to lift herself into one of the high chairs that faced the counter top.

“We flied here, grandma!” She said once she was indeed seated properly, though it wasn’t long before she had managed to pull her legs underneath her body to make herself even taller.

“Yes, Violet, we ‘flew’ here,” Percy corrected.

Violet’s vocabulary was exploding now and she was constantly trying new constructions for her sentences, usually to her success. But Percy always was the perfectionist. But you appreciated how gentle he was as he tried to guide her.

“Flew,” she said with a nod of her head. “We went in the sky. It was fun, grandma. We saw birds!”

Molly was nodding along to Violet’s little story, clearly more focused on the child than the contents of her speech because it wasn’t until a few minutes later that she addressed your husband.

“You know, you can always just use the floo network to get here. I knew you were coming. It wouldn’t have bothered me.”

“We couldn’t,” Percy said dismissively before looking over to you with a smile.

“Fireplace down at your house?” she asked, “Good excuse to get Violet in the skies. I always say you should start them young. Helps their balance.”

“No,” Percy said as he walked over to you, “Our fireplace is fine.”

Molly took a moment to finish with her current husk.

“Well, what a fun, spontaneous adventure for Violet then.”

“It wasn’t for Violet, Mum,” Percy blurted, his hands coming around to hold you by the waist.

At his tone, Molly set down her corn to look him in the eyes. At first, you thought she was going to scold him for being snippy, but when she saw the faint smile on his face and the way he was looking down at you in his arms, she took pause.

“So you couldn’t use the floo network?” she tread.

“No, mum.”

“And you couldn’t apparate either, am I correct?”

“You are,” Percy confirmed, his smile growing wider as he watched the wheels turn in his mother’s head.

“So you flew.”

“Yes.”

“You flew,” she breathed. “You flew,” she said again, this time squealing. “Arthur, Arthur!” She turned towards the living room, running to call up the stairs. “Arthur!”

Percy was laughing as he held you, his hands stroking your stomach and his chin coming down to rest on your shoulder. His laughter so close to your ear was almost too much noise, joyous but overwhelming. You turned your gaze to watch an unfazed Violet drumming her hands and elbows along the countertop.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur uttered between breaths as he stood in the doorway of the kitchen. He held a rag in his hands trying to wipe at the dirt, clearly having been working on something in the garage. He took in the scene, everyone completely calm and smiling, except his wife who was by this point nearly in hysterics. He took a moment to catch his breath.

“Arthur, they— Godric, you are a mess — they flew here with Violet,” Molly was talking so fast as she whipped around the room to get her wand, calling out a quick spell to remove the dirt from her husband’s skin before grabbing him by the arms. “They flew here, Arthur. Do you hear me? They flew here.”

“So?”

“So? So! They flew here. Y/N flew her. She can’t use floo powder. She can’t apparate, Arthur. She can’t apparate!” With the last squeal, Molly pulled you from Percy’s arms squeezing you to her chest and crying into your shoulder.

“Oh, Merlin,” she gushed between sobs, “I had hoped. I had hoped and hoped and it’s finally true!”

“This is much better than last time I shared this kind of news with you,” you laughed, which made Molly only sob more.

“Someone care to tell me what’s going on?” Arthur asked as he poured himself a glass of water.

“Y/N’s pregnant, dad. We’re having a baby.”

Arthur took a moment to watch his wife shedding happy tears into your shoulder and then turned to his son.

“Good,” was all he said with a pat on Percy’s arm before moving towards Violet. “Hello, precious,” he murmured to the little one before kissing her cheek and joining her as she sat at the counter. They quickly fell into deep conversation, at least as deep as you could with a three and a half year old.

When Molly finally pulled away, Percy took his place once again behind you, holding you in his arms and running his fingers protectively over your stomach.

“How far along?” Molly asked as she wiped the tears from her face, clearly trying to compose herself once more. You loved how much she adored her grandchildren, adored the way she doted on Violet and taught you how to be the best parent you could be. The kind of model of motherhood she provided certainly helped you feel confident, even if your own mother had completely failed you.

“Twelve weeks.”

“Twelve weeks? Twelve weeks and you are only now telling us?” Molly glowered.

You looked to Percy for back-up as you bit your lip. He took the signal and spoke, pulling you even tighter against him.

“We wanted to make sure it was real,” he said with a nervous chuckle, though you felt the weight of his words.

Neither of you had told anyone about the miscarriage you had suffered right after your honeymoon. Ten days lounging on the beaches of the South Pacific, allowing the breezes to calm your bodies and the stress to leave your minds, gave you plenty of time for physical intimacy. And seeing Bill and Fleur preparing for baby number two had you both eager to start right away. So it was no surprise upon your return when you were late. Percy was overjoyed and you shared in his enthusiasm. Violet was getting older and the desire for another baby was so strong sometimes you thought it might suffocate you.

So when you began to bleed just days before the Halloween party in which you planned to tell the family, you were scared, but you had had some bleeding with Violet and tried to stay hopeful. And when the bleeding didn’t stop, you knew something was wrong. And then the cramping settled in, followed by the clotting. You sat on your bathroom floor for hours crying, from the pain and the sadness, never quite sure which was worse. Occasionally, you heard Violet in your bedroom, begging Percy to let her see you. But he assured her you were okay, entertained her as best he could. Afterwards, he talked about how hard it was to let you suffer alone, how much he just wanted to curl up on the tile beside you and mourn together. But someone had to be there for Violet, even if it meant pushing away a ton of pain.

That night, Violet had crawled into bed between you two. If she noticed the towels upon which you laid, she mentioned nothing. And in the middle of the night, you combed her hair with your fingers and cried some more, wondering if she would be the only child you’d ever have the opportunity to raise and love.

But here you were, telling your family, not necessarily because you trusted that everything was smooth sailing, but because if something happened now, you would want them to know. But the healers confirmed the baby’s strength and you already felt the signs of your body adjusting. Your breasts were sore. Your body ached in the right way. You were just getting over the nausea that seemed to plague you at the most inconvenient times. And Percy was finally conquering his fear of doing something that might cause you harm, instead moving towards the phase of never letting you lift a finger and showering your body in love and praise almost continually.

“Of course it is real,” Molly said dismissively, not realizing her words might hurt you, “Oh, another Weasley! And Violet a big sister!”

You tried your best to smile and press through. Percy kissed your ear and whispered that he loved you, feeling how you tensed at his mother’s light tone.

“I get to be a big sister like Victoire!” Violet called at hearing her name. “Bigger!” She corrected herself, “Victoire’s a baby. I’m a big girl.”

Like always, Violet managed to lighten the mood. You laughed at your daughter and took the opportunity to turn in Percy’s arms and kiss him properly.

And so you went through the rest of the day, prepping for the dinner that would now celebrate three things, one of which seemed to be everyone’s joy, not just Percy’s.

That night, you laid together in bed, Violet nestled between you, reading a book of fairy tales she had recently come to love. Sleep was becoming harder for the little girl. She was getting scared more often of the dark and her fear had already caused a few accidents: scattering her entire bookshelf with her mind, bursting the feathers out of her pillows, and even once conjuring a light, albeit dim. Her magic was strong, scarily so sometimes, so making sure she had no reason to feel unstable was important to avoid burning your house to the ground. In those moments though, you couldn’t help but see her father in her; a talented wizard capable of immeasurable things most of which were as brilliant as they were mischievous, a man who tackled fear head-on and never settled, a man who refused to suffer in silence, who fought until the very end.

“Daddy?” she asked as Percy closed the book and set it on the nightstand. She crawled up into the pocket created by his arm to nestle in against his chest.

His hands came around to hold her more securely, patting at her waist. “Yes, pumpkin?”

“Where is the baby?”

Percy smiled down at his little girl, stroking her hair that looked so much like his own.

“Well, the baby is in your mommy’s belly. They’ve got to grow big and strong before they come join us out here. You will meet your sibling in a few months, March probably.”

“I want to meet baby now,” she pleaded, her eyes like saucers as she looked up at her father, as though he could control biology all on his own. He laughed at the sincerity of it.

You rubbed at your daughter’s back, pulling her gaze towards you. You stroked your stomach to show her the home your body was making for the new little one.

“You can’t see her, but she’s right here,” you assured. “You can talk to her if you want. She can’t hear you yet, but she will soon.”

Violet crawled over to you and laid her head on your tummy.

“She’s there?” Violet asked, looking down at your belly button and poking.

“Yes, she is.”

Percy made a sound similar to a scoff but with little actual force behind it. “It may not be a girl,” he whispered to himself.

You quickly shot a glance at Percy.

“I was right last time, wasn't I?” you quipped. At that, he chuckled.

“Where?” Violet asked, poking at her own belly button to see if she could tell a difference.

“Inside, under the skin and muscle. She’s nice and safe in there. Soon Mommy’s belly will get bigger and bigger and you’ll be able to feel her in there, too.”

“Was I in there?”

You continued to stroke her hair as she stared at your stomach, so confused by the mystery of making life. “Yes,” you confirmed.

Violet seemed satisfied by the answer and didn’t know what else to ask. She just continued to lightly poke at your stomach before looking up at Percy. Her eyes held questions, though she didn’t speak them. Percy decided to encourage her.

“Go on. Introduce yourself,” he prompted.

Violet kissed your belly before starting, “Hi, baby. I’m Violet. I’m your sister.”

Violet continued to babble at your belly as you looked over at your husband. His eyes were only on your stomach, on the two little lives that were somehow his to raise, to love, to help to grow. His pride and joy all together lounging in bed with him, filling his home and his life with so much love.

When he finally felt your gaze upon him, he looked up and smiled at you. In a moment, he leaned forward and kissed you full, his lips searing against yours, like stepping outside in the heat of summer, overpowering and breathtaking. When he pulled away, he lifted Violet up by the armpits.

“Okay, little one, time for bed,” he said as he sat her down on the floor. She quickly ran around the mattress towards you.

“‘Night, mama,” she mumbled as she gave you a kiss. Immediately, she turned and did the same for your belly. “Night, baby.”

She skipped to the other end of the bed to grab her father’s hand, leading him towards her bedroom to be tucked in.

You laid among your covers, stroking at your stomach, your mind churning on so many things. The last time you laid in bed pregnant like this, you couldn’t contain your tears. You yearned to meet the child, to fill the asteroid-sized hole in your heart at the loss of Fred, hoping beyond hope that something in her face might be his. As you closed your eyes, you pictured Violet’s features and saw just how much she indeed looked like Fred: bright eyes that crinkled with joy, a toothy grin, ears just a little too big, and fiery red locks that shone brighter than the setting sun. But somehow your mind was also able to pull out all the ways she looked just like Percy, too: how her brows pulled together in concentration, the dimple of her chin, the timbre of her laughter, the wiggle of her nose when she disagreed.

You don’t know how much time passed before you felt the gentle kiss on your neck that pulled you from your thoughts. Sighing at Percy’s ministrations, you turned to face him fully. He tutted at your action.

“No, no,” he insisted, “You don’t move.” He pushed you gently onto your side so he could spoon you, holding you firmly against him and allowing his hands to run the length of your body. “So perfect,” he moaned in your ear and his hands came to cup you under your breasts. “Just so perfect.”

“Percy?”

“Yes, my love,” he hummed against the bare flesh of your shoulder.

You tried hard to figure out just how to word the thing you wanted to know.

“Do you worry that Violet will feel less than because she’s not yours?”

“But she is mine,” Percy questioned.

You whispered into the space in front of you, “She’s your daughter, but not your blood.”

Percy pulled himself from your arms, hovering over you with a serious expression and brows knitted.

“She is my blood, Y/N. She’s a Weasley. Violet is my child, as is the one inside you. Violet is also my niece, a title none of our children will ever hold. In that sense, she is even more to me than our children will be. She’s the one remaining piece of the brother I lost, the brother I’ll mourn for the rest of my life. I love her, Y/N. I love her like I gave her life myself. And I love her some more because you and Fred gave her life, too. Please don’t ever worry that this child will change that. it changes nothing other than that Violet will have one more person to love her.”

He looked deep into your eyes to make sure you understood the meaning of his words before falling back beside you and pulling you into his arms.

“I love you, darling. I have for quite a long time and will continue to do so for the rest of my days. And I am so glad to watch our family grow. Now you really need to stop stressing about things. It isn’t good for the baby.”

You laughed, “I’ve done this once before, you know, and under much more stressful circumstances.”

“But then you didn’t have me to take care of you. I am going to make sure this pregnancy is like floating on a cloud. You’re going to be treated like a queen every step of the way, my dear,” he said as he kissed your shoulder and began moving his lips down and down until he was sucking upon your cleavage.

“You always treat me like a queen,” you sighed.

“A goddess then. Something even better. Something magical.”

You laughed at the choice of phrase. Your whole life, your whole world, was magic, Percy’s love the epitome of just that. You sighed and fell further back into your pillow, allowing his love to wash over you, a perfect kind of love that weathered any storm, a love that built a family out of the rubble of war, that made a life you truly wanted to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for going on this journey with me. Epilogue (September 1, 2016) will be posted this weekend. :)


	13. September, 2016

“Molly, no running!” you called to your middle daughter who was sprinting towards the pillar that denoted the space between platforms 9 and 10 at King’s Cross Station She crossed through the threshold without even looking out for muggle eyes, so eager to get on the train.

Percy stood beside you pushing a cart of trunks, each a different color. He huffed and looked towards Violet whose head was already deep in a book, having pointed out multiple times over the summer that it was imperative for her to improve her transfiguration skill in time for her N.E.W.T.s if she wished to be a healer like her mother.

“Violet, would you mind?”

“On it, dad,” she said, increasing the speed of her steps to catch up with her sister and never closing her book.

“I’m not running, dad,” Lucy called, an air of superiority and triumph in her voice that reminded you so much of her father in his youth.

“You aren’t walking either,” Percy chided. He smirked down at the girl where she sat on top of the green trunk, allowing her father to lazily push her forward.

“Neither is Nate,” she offered as defense, looking up at her little brother as he sat in your arms, head bobbing in sleep.

“Ignatius is six, sweetheart. We’re lucky if he chooses to walk at all.”

Together, you followed Molly and Violet through the threshold appearing on Platform 9 ¾ just in time for the first blow of the horn of the Hogwarts Express, denoting fifteen minutes until departure. Molly was chatting eagerly with her cousin Louis who stood beside his parents and sisters, Violet close behind, still deep in her book and trying her best to ignore the constant too-eager laughter of her cousin Victoire at every single thing Teddy Lupin whispered in her ear.

You joined your in-laws, kissing Fleur on the cheek and hugging Bill, happy to have the companionship with which to send your children off. Fleur and Bill would be enjoying their empty nest while the kids were away at school. Part of you was jealous, having thought someday you might have that freedom when the girls set off, but Nate still had a few years to go. Only now was he stirring from his short nap on your arms, nuzzling into your shoulder to try and return to his peaceful rest.

Your family was only partially planned. Molly Y/N Weasley came into the world just as predicted in March of 2003, to the great joy of her older sister. Seeing Violet take to the baby so readily and not become jealous of your diverted attentions was such a surprise. Quickly, you welcomed your third, Lucy Cedrella, just a year and a half later on her father’s twenty-eighth birthday. At that point, you believed your family to be complete. Percy and you loved your girls, loved the laughter and joy and even the tears they brought to your home, loved how they played together and supported each other. After growing up with a brood of brothers, Percy was overjoyed at the chance to be surrounded by so many vibrant women. And three daughters was perfectly enough.

And then your eighth anniversary came along. Percy planned a big trip as it was only a few days after Violet started school, the perfect time to celebrate. Molly and Lucy went to visit their cousins for the week and you and Percy went from city to city along the Mediterranean never doing anything more than eating nice meals, drinking wine, and enjoying the pleasures of each other’s bodies, sometimes even during the nice meals and wine drinking if room service was an option. And nine months later, Ignatius Arthur joined your home, the final piece of what already seemed to be a complete puzzle.

You listened only vaguely as Percy chatted with his brother, instead choosing to focus on the way your girls carried on, finding friends, chatting away over snacks and cards, enjoying their last few minutes before school took over their lives once more.

“Looks like the gang’s all here,” George called as he patted your shoulder, moving into the circle towards his brothers.

“Uncle George!” Violet squealed, immediately closing her book for him. She gave George a giant hug before exchanging similar hellos with Angie and their children. George was always Violet’s favorite uncle. As she got older, they grew even closer as Violet had a lot of questions about her father that only George could properly answer.

“Is that a pin I spot?” George asked as your daughter returned to her reading.

“I’m Head Girl this year,” Violet confirmed with pride in her voice.

“My, my, your dad must be proud, following in his footsteps,” Angelina said as she came to give you a hug and Nate a kiss to the top of his sleepy head. Your friendship with Angie had only grown with motherhood, especially as Roxanne and Ignatius joined the family around the same time.

“Well, one dad,” George chuckled, “The other would be insanely disappointed.”

Violet scoffed, “Both my dads would be very happy that I am doing something I love.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” George confirmed as he hugged her once more.

At the chatter, Nate properly stirred from your arms, rubbing his eyes dramatically before signaling that he wanted to be put down. The instant his feet hit the floor he found his father’s hand, cuddling into his side and listening to him talk. You watched Percy rub his knuckles and pull the boy further against his legs, never once breaking his conversation. You couldn’t stop your smile at their clear affection, such love and joy shared between them.

You fell deep into conversation with Angie, discussing your new job and all the work you’ve been doing over the past few months. After a couple years at the ministry, you did finally leave to pursue your career as a healer. You ended up at St. Mungo’s, but found the work less than fulfilling, wanting to primarily support mothers and babies after everything you had been through bringing your girls into the world. You left to work under some of the country’s best midwives and only recently returning to St. Mungo’s to assist in the opening of a women’s clinic and a wing to the hospital for expectant mothers and babies. It was tough and grueling, but Percy had taken a bit of a sacrifice to help make your dreams come true. He had agreed to take over a smaller department so he wouldn’t be working any weekends while you pursue your dream and was always home in time to make sure dinner was ready for you.

The train horn echoed across the platform once more. Five minutes. The girls all came up to grab their luggage as you gave them each a kiss on the forehead. Red for Violet, a Gryffindor through and through, always strong in her convictions, eager to stand up for others, and in many ways a perfect combination of her fathers, determined but willing to bend the rules when the time called for it. Yellow for Molly, always prioritizing the feelings and needs of others above her own and striving to do her best, regardless of how many times she failed, much like her mom. And green for Lucy, as ambitious as Percy and always finding a new, better way to do things. You suspected Nate would need something blue, a quick study who believed his dad’s wit to be the funniest stuff in the world.

Some families would hate to have such diversity in their children, feeling it a failing. But for you and Percy, it meant you had raised a family that valued the unique skills everyone brought to the table, that saw the benefit in having a multitude of points of views to pull from, to work together with those different from you. You raised your children to be their own people with their own outlooks on the world. Of that, you and Percy were endlessly proud.

You looked out on the crowd, observing all the subtle interactions that reminded you of your youth. You watched a young couple making out behind a pillar, clearly trying to hide themselves from the watchful eyes of their classmates. You watched two kids trading frog cards with such enthusiasm that you wondered how many frogs they must have eaten. But your eyes stopped their wandering at a particular exchange.

You watched as a young boy, red-faced and eager, made flowers grow from the tip of his wand and offer them up with an exaggerated bow to a girl whose coat was just a little too big. She took them with a shy smile on her face and nodded. It wasn’t until he turned away, running to chase after another boy who had just come up behind him and flipped his hood over his head, that the girl allowed herself to sniff the bouquet. She smiled wide and clutched the flowers to her chest, savoring their fragrance, as her eyes traced the path of the boy’s frantic movements.

It was only then you remembered something you hadn’t admitted to anyone, to any of your friends or family or to either of the men you had loved.

You loved the Weasleys long before the violets, before the failed attempts at seduction through dungbombs and firecrackers, long before you gave up pretending to be annoyed by Fred’s affection, before dating, shop openings, war, death, and children.

You loved the Weasleys from your first day on this platform twenty-seven years ago, when a vibrant young boy by the name of Fred introduced himself. He offered to share with you his crackers before running to catch up with his older brother who was already clad in his school robes. You remember looking down at the food in your hand, which, given the holes near the sleeves of his sweater, must have been worth a lot to him, and then looking at the two boys with their fiery red hair, one standing tall and proud while the other couldn’t stand still for long at all, and thinking, “I’ll marry that boy someday.”

And somehow, despite everything, you were right.

Shaky breaths left your chest as a tear began to roll down your cheek. The young girl had noticed you staring and had long since boarded the train, a few petals on the ground the only signs she ever existed.

“Thanks, Fred,” you breathed as you let your eyes fall closed. You turned your face upward, hoping that wherever Fred was, he might be remembering too or at least could see the joy you felt at all he’d given you, starting the wonderful, chaotic, beautiful series of events that brought you so many good things. You said your prayers once more as you let the tears roll down your chin.

You only had a few seconds to feel the overwhelming gratitude before Percy was once again at your side.

“Darling, are you okay?” he asked, reaching up to wipe your chin as his other hand interlocked with your own, synchronized as though it were natural law to be connected.

Your brain processed the movement, the ease at which Percy always seemed to find you, to make his home beside you, even after all these years.

You swallowed to alleviate the tightening in your throat. You felt the last of the tears escape over your lids, knowing that this wouldn’t be the last time you cried for Fred, but not because you were sad, but because without him you would have never known the depths of love of which you were capable.

“I’m great,” you said, turning your tear-stained face to your husband. “Just great.” And you offered him a genuine smile, so broad it caused crinkles in your cheeks, such a contrast to your puffy red eyes.

Percy nodded, not understanding but knowing he didn’t need to. He simply squeezed your fingers as you both looked out on your children, mingling with their friends and cousins before parting for school.

You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that one day, when you were old and gray and your time had come to pass from this world, you hoped you would appear once again on this platform, young and awkward and alone. Fred would be waiting for you, crackers in hand ready to share and that toothy smile you loved so much plastered on his face. “Took ya long enough,” he’d say. Only this time, when he skipped off to meet his brother, he’d bring you with him, passing you off into the arms of a lanky, nervous teenager, one who loved you from afar and never said a word, the two best things that ever happened to you, your past and your present, guiding you into the unknown future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re done! I love you all for coming on board with me for this story. It really was a way of processing a lot of my feelings about losing my son, so thank you for being so supportive and interacting with me.
> 
> Come on over to my tumblr (@ardentmuse - https://ardentmuse.tumblr.com/) where I write and talk about the Weasleys a ton. I only post series on AO3. All my oneshots can be found on tumblr.
> 
> Love, Lia


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